Mods & Rockers
by Michaelmas54
Summary: One boy, one girl; one rich, one poor; one privileged, one not; one Mod, one Rocker. This story takes you back in time to England in 1964 when these two gangs managed to exist side by side, until bank holiday weekends when they fought on the beaches. Inspired by true events. Rated M for all the usual reasons.
1. Mods & Rockers: Introduction

**_MODS & ROCKERS_**

 **Inspired by true events which happened in England between March and May 1964**

 ** _Disclaimer: The characters are borrowed from Stephenie Meyer, to whom I'm eternally grateful._**

I've whisked Edward, Bella and friends away from Washington State and dumped them in another rainy part of the world where I'm sure they'll feel quite at home. As the story is set wholly in England, the spellings are in UK English. I've included author's notes at the end of some of the chapters to explain the historical events or actual places referred to in the story. I hope you find these helpful.

Mods & Rockers is a romantic drama with adult themes including sex, violence (not too much), some humour and bad/offensive language. I really hope you enjoy it.

* * *

 **Setting the Scene - London, March 1964:**

In England in the 1960's, thousands of teenagers and young adults, now free from the imposition of National Service and post-war austerity, divided themselves into two distinctively separate gangs. They were either sharp-dressed, scooter-mad Mods, or leather-clad, motorbike-riding Rockers. They were natural enemies, and 'battles' took place on the beaches around the coasts of England, usually on Bank Holidays (Public Holidays). The story covers actual historical events that took place between March and May 1964, and if you are interested, there is a more information and photographs on the internet about the Mods and Rockers confrontations that took place in Clacton and Brighton which are mentioned here.

In 1964, London was not yet swinging. Mary Quant and Biba were just starting to find their places in the fashion world. The Beatles, The Rolling Stones and The Who were already on their trajectory towards the stars, but 'popular' music was almost totally ignored by old men who ran the nation's media.

In 1964, you could drink alcohol in pubs and clubs from the age of eighteen. You could ride a scooter or small motorbike at sixteen and drive a car from seventeen. For the more powerful motorbikes you needed to have passed a test and have a full licence. Voting age was twenty-one. The Pill wasn't generally available to unmarried women, so the sexual revolution hadn't taken place as yet. Homosexuality was still illegal. Pubs closed at 11pm. Only half the homes in Britain had a telephone and very few houses had showers or separate loos!

The average wage was fourteen pounds a week and the currency hadn't yet been decimalised. So in every pound there were twenty shillings, in every shilling there were twelve pence. So a ten shilling note was half a pound. Try working that out when you're a kid at school - nightmare! I won't go into guineas, half-crowns etc., that would be too confusing.

Social class and ingrained snobbery still played a huge part in society. The middle-classes had 'never had it so good', according to Harold McMillan, a previous Conservative (Tory) Prime Minister, but the blue-collar working class were still relatively poor and were not yet benefitting from the growing prosperity of a victorious nation.

Women were still second-class citizens in society, especially in the workplace, and blatant sexist remarks and habits were commonplace. The terms 'Politically Correct' and 'Equal Opportunities' had not yet entered the English vocabulary. 'Coloured' people from the West Indies and other British colonies were encouraged to come to Britain, to work in hospitals and on the public transport network, but nobody wanted to rent a house to them. 'Black' music however was slowly creeping onto the London club scene and would eventually spread its influence across the country.

So now we've set the scene, here we go with a tale of two young Londoners;

One boy, one girl; One rich, one poor; One privileged, one not.

 **One Mod, one Rocker.**

Enjoy x

Joan (aka Michaelmas54)


	2. Chapter 2

**The story starts with our main characters, Edward Cullen and Bella Swan, going home from their respective workplaces on Friday night, both looking forward to a night out, but in totally different environments. For those of you who were around in Britain at the time, you'll remember that every Friday night at around 6.30pm, the best music programme ever broadcast, i.e. Ready Steady Go, would be on the TV.**

 **So here we go...5,4,3,2,1...**

* * *

 **MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 1**

Friday, 20th March 1964

 **Edward**

Friday night at last. The Circle Line tube train I'm travelling on is crammed with weary commuters heading home for the weekend. As usual the journey is utter hell. I'm crushed in the aisle, hanging onto a disgustingly sticky leather strap that's dangling from a nicotine-stained ceiling, while trying to remain upright as more and more people are squeezed into the confined carriage.

"At least it's not midsummer," I muse philosophically, trying to make the best of my situation as the train bounces along the uneven rails. On warm days in London, (believe it or not, London does get very warm sometimes), the trapped air in the Underground gets stiflingly hot. So if you're obliged to stand for any length of time, you have to endure the disgusting stench of sweaty armpits in your face because the older generation of nylon-shirted English males haven't as yet discovered the benefits (to others) of deodorants.

My journey is the same one I take every weekday, from Blackfriars in the City, which is the nearest station to Fleet Street where I work, to High Street Kensington, which is the closest station to where I live. Every day, Monday to Friday, there and back again, day in and day out. The thought that I probably have forty years of this tedium ahead of me is quite depressing. I'll admit I'm substantially better off than the average Londoner in their mid-twenties, but because of my 'some might say' misguided principles, I'm obliged to work to support myself, as my disgustingly wealthy and privileged family have financially disowned me, but more of that later.

I recognise the faces of my fellow passengers like old acquaintances now as I've been travelling this route for well over a year. I know which station they get on and off by heart, and some days, to relieve the boredom I try to guess what they do for a living. Is he a banker or an accountant? Is she a shop assistant or a typist? I reckon I can work out what they do just by the clothes and shoes they wear and the bags they carry.

London folk don't wear 'uniforms' in the proper sense of the word, but they might as well. Bowler hats and briefcases for the stockbrokers and bankers. Lounge suits for lawyers, accountants and management. High heels and leather handbags for the secretaries. Flatter shoes and fake-leather for the typists or shop assistants. Their clothes are almost tribal, indicating where they are in the pecking order of London society. But who am I to judge as I glance down at my nondescript dark grey Burton suit with pale blue shirt and regulation boring striped tie? In other words standard attire for a junior lawyer in a City practice.

I have to wriggle my way off the train at High Street Kensington, (or 'High Street Ken' as it's more commonly known), before another horde of commuters squeeze into the vacated spaces. When I'm free from the crush, I take a deep breath to put some air back into my lungs then lope up the crumbling flights of concrete steps two at a time before flashing my season ticket at the cheery looking Jamaican station master who recognises me and tips his cap. A few more paces and I'm liberated at last from the subterranean hell-hole, also known as the London Underground system, and I'm out in the fresh by comparison air, and it's at this exact moment I can say to myself, "the weekend has just begun."

I jog across the famous shopping street, weaving my way through stationary nose to tail traffic, then briskly walk the half mile or so towards the house I've recently purchased outright. This outrageous piece of good fortune is due to the generosity of my recently departed grandfather on my father's side who kindly left me a rather large legacy, much to the annoyance of his son, my father. I was genuinely fond of the old chap and miss his good humour and wise words. He took great delight encouraging me to be reckless and to have adventures; in other words not end up like his "boring old-fart of a son," if I could help it. I suppose I have followed his advice to a certain extent, and before he died he told me he was proud of me, especially after I confided in him what I was _really_ going to do with my life, (well my working life that is).

I leave the noisy High Street behind me and make my way through quieter avenues lined with leafless trees that are patiently waiting for the arrival of spring, which is only a week or so away. The houses I pass are grand, three or four-storey white stone residences which were built specifically for the lesser gentry or well-heeled families in the 1800's. These were the class of people who sent their sons to Eton and their daughters to be presented at Court as Debutants. These generally obnoxious people still exist, but now they live in the Shire counties and drive around in Land Rovers, killing foxes or pheasants for sport, plus anything else with wings or four legs just for a bit of fun. My parents could easily fit into this class, but at least they're animal lovers and my father only hunts when the kill ends up on the dining room table.

Most of these huge houses seem to be owned by Embassies now. The vast majority of cars parked on the roadside have diplomatic number plates and the people I see coming and going at all hours of the day and night look a bit shifty. I don't recognise any of the flags that dangle off the façades, and haven't heard of half of the countries named on the brass plates screwed to the heavily guarded doors. For example, until recently I genuinely thought Mauritania was an imaginary place made up by Hans Christian Anderson, but apparently it's a real country somewhere in West Africa.

I turn a corner which takes me away from these imposing piles and look down the narrow, cobbled cul-de-sac to where my trendy mews cottage is situated about a hundred yards away on the left. I can see my freshly-painted black stable doors from the top of the road, behind which I keep my girls safely under lock and key during the day. As I walk the last few steps to my front door, I muse about which of my two lucky ladies will have the pleasure of my company this evening.

A hundred or so years ago these small, two-bedroomed residences accommodated the coachmen employed by the well-to-do; today's equivalent of private chauffeurs. Now these pricy, sought-after terraces are home to successful city brokers or glamorous fashion models. They reside in the rooms above the 'stables' and garage their E-Types in the cavernous spaces below, where the carriages and one-horsepower mode of transport used to reside.

I blew the vast majority of my inheritance on this place and now have to work for a living to maintain it. But I love it, as it's my first _proper_ home since moving away from my parents' massive pile in the country. Before buying it almost eighteen months ago, I'd been living in University digs in Cambridge, followed by friends' sofas or cheap and shabby shared flats in dubious parts of London. I enjoyed this time immensely, but there's nothing like owning your own place.

As I stroll along the street towards my front door, I notice it's now noticeably lighter at this time of day after a long, dark winter. The evening air is also much warmer than a few weeks ago so I'm relieved to shake my coat off when I get indoors. The Underground always makes me feel dirty whatever the season, but I'm not going to bathe or shower before I go out tonight. A bit of manly sweat and London grime will only enhance my image, or should I say my weekend disguise? I didn't shave this morning either so my jawline already has a decent five o'clock shadow which the girls seem to like. They tell me its sexy, so who am I to argue if it helps me get what I want?

I sprint upstairs to the front bedroom and hang my suit jacket in the wardrobe that only houses my work clothes. After removing my grandfather's gold Rolex then emptying my trouser pockets of my spare cash and Polo mints, I strip the rest of my outer clothes off, throwing the shirt into the washing basket and folding the trousers up neatly, ready to take them to the dry cleaners near my office on Monday morning.

I take a long look at myself in the full length mirror before getting dressed again. I'm in good shape for a guy in his mid-twenties and that's purely through luck and not because of any effort on my part as I've practically given up sport since starting work. I used to row for my University so my body is still lean, broad-shouldered and slim hipped and my legs and arms are strong and muscular. Hopefully it will stay that way for the time being or I'll have to get off my arse and do some exercise again.

My dark auburn hair is long on top but always well-groomed for work, so I roughly run my fingers through it, releasing it from its unnatural state, then carefully tousle it even more so it looks 'unkempt' as my mother would say. I grin at my reflection in the mirror. "You really are a sexy fucker," I say to myself out loud and grin again, imagining my saintly mother threatening to wash my mouth out with soap for cursing.

I turn my back on the mirror and in that moment my weekday persona, Edward Anthony Masen-Cullen, the respected and well-spoken young lawyer with impeccable manners, background and education, is stored neatly away along with his work clothes for the next forty-eight hours at least. I'll resurrect this Edward again on Monday morning, but hopefully by then 'Edward' will have stored in his memory some fresh examples of reckless behaviour and high speed adventures, ready to be called upon and re-visited while he's gazing out his office window, or relieving the monotony of a tedious journey, or sitting in a boring courtroom listening to a judge droning on about his deliberations.

I stroll into the guest bedroom where there's a double-fronted, free standing wardrobe which houses my weekend clothes. I grasp the door handle and give it a tug whilst acknowledging this is one of my favourite moments of the week. Instantly, the distinctive aroma of the wardrobe's contents hits my nostrils before the door opens fully and I savour the delicious scent before it dissipates.

Memories associated with the smell of leather flood my brain cells, and after fleetingly recalling one of my more dangerous escapades, I'm ready to concentrate on the task in hand. I contemplate for a moment which items to choose, then take my selections off the hangers and throw them on the bed.

I pull on a faded black, loose fitting t-shirt which looks like its seen better days. Small holes in the fabric at the seams are designed to give the impression that the wearer doesn't care much about his appearance, but the shirt has been carefully 'distressed' by me to give it an edgy look. Dark blue Wrangler's which smell faintly of oil are pulled on next and I slip them over my white cotton shorts. The silver buttons on the inside of the fly remind me that in my alternate universe, zipped denims are for 'pansies', even though I hate that expression. The Wranglers hang low on my hips but tight across my arse and I know they make me look good – in a James Dean/Billy Fury sort of way. One of the back pockets is ripped, and I smirk when I remember who did this and why. Maybe I'll get lucky again tonight and get a matching rip on the other side. Who knows?

Next to go on is a heavy silver chain which I keep on the door handle. I fasten it around my neck then secure a black leather cuff to my right wrist that has a silver skull artfully decorated on the widest part. On my left wrist I wear a cheap metal watch with a black leather strap. When this is securely fastened, I pick up my jacket of choice, my wallet and loose change and head downstairs to the kitchen to eat something before heading out.

My superstar cleaner, Doris, has left me four Hot Cross Buns on the worktop. I quickly scoff two without bothering with butter and shove the rest in the bread bin, making a mental note to leave a box of Quality Street for Doris next week along with her fee. Not bothering to get a glass because it would need washing, I glug about half a pint of milk straight from the bottle which I know is a disgusting habit. As I'm drinking, I can hear my mother or the cook yelling at me for doing this when I was a kid and I smirk when I put the bottle back in the fridge. Having my own place at last is awesome!

I chuckle when I think of the word 'awesome', because I acknowledge it's one of the 'Americanisms' I've picked up from a friend I'm seeing later. 'Fucker' is also one of those words, as I genuinely hadn't heard the original word being used as a noun before I met him. I use it at weekends a lot now, which is 'awesome'.

Suitably fed and watered, I pull on my leather boots then slide on my favourite black leather jacket which has the word 'Norton' spelled out in silver studs across the back. As I grab the keys to the stable from a hook by the door, I again vainly check myself in the hall mirror before heading out, knowing I'll be more than satisfied with my reflection.

The jeans and leather-clad youth staring back at me bears no resemblance to the young lawyer who walked through the door less than half an hour ago. Edward Cullen, the respectable employee and all-round good chap, is long-gone, and a totally different species of human stands in his place.

Smirking back at me is bad-boy Eddie Masen, my alter-ego. He's a guy who likes to break the rules, who frightens old ladies just by his appearance and swagger. Who lives like he rides - fast and dangerous. He fights, he screws, and he drinks to excess and laughs at danger, but would risk his life for his pack if it came to it. He also owns two of the fastest production motorbikes in the world and tonight he plans to hit the ton on one of them.

I wink at Eddie Masen and throw the keys to the stable in the air, but before they land in my hand I make the easy decision that it's Sexy Sadie who'll have my legs wrapped around her engine tonight. This is my life now, and until I return home on Sunday evening, or should I say 'if' I return home on Sunday evening…

I'm Eddie Masen, and I'm a Rocker!

* * *

 **Bella**

The clock ticks slowly towards half-past five. The last fifteen minutes take an age, but finally the big hand hits the six with a satisfying thump and a collective sigh is heard around the typing pool. The girl next to me, who like every third girl in the room is called Sue or Susan, whispers "thank Christ for that," then smiles sweetly at the office manager who I'm sure has just lip-read what she said due to the furious look on her crusty face.

I grab my handbag and fruity Polos and head off to the ladies cloakroom where our coats are hung on pegs. "It's like being back at school," I huff, but at least my coat doesn't have my name scribbled on the collar anymore.

I glance at my reflection in the mirror while I'm sliding my coat on and pull a face at what I see. My pale complexion is washed-out and grey and I look tired. I definitely need some sun, but there's no chance of getting any when I spend the vast majority of the daylight hours bashing a typewriter for eight pounds a week. The other girls are slathering on lippy before they leave but I'm not bothering. Lipstick is expensive and I'd rather save what I've got left for when I go out on the town, and not waste it on the short journey home when I'm hardly likely to bump into Paul McCartney or someone like that.

We file out the cloakroom and pick up our weekly pay envelopes on the way to the main entrance. Luckily I haven't been ill this winter so haven't had any money deducted, but poor Susan M, who's still getting over glandular fever, has missed so many days she's hardly covered her season ticket. I'm also fortunate because I only live a short bus ride away from where I work so my weekday expenses are negligible, but I'm never going to be able to save anything on the money I earn so holidays and nice clothes are only a pipe dream.

After buttoning my coat and saying "cheerio" to the other girls, I walk across the road to the stop and wait with the usual crowd for my bus. One arrives quickly and I take a seat downstairs, leaving the filthy upstairs deck to the wheezy smokers and unruly teenagers. The short ride home from the City is uneventful and my fellow passengers all seem to be in a good mood, probably because it's Friday and the weather forecast is fine for the weekend. This is typical for England, because next weekend is Easter and you can guarantee that the weather will be awful for the two bank holidays.

Fifteen minutes later I'm walking through my front door to the usual sight. My dad is in the sitting room in his chair by the fireplace; a cigarette in one hand and a copy of the Evening News in the other. He's muttering away to himself and I hear the words, "bloody Tories," followed by a grunt of disgust as I walk past. I carry on to the kitchen where mum is just about visible through a cloud of steam emanating from two pans of vegetables bubbling away on the stove. "Hi mum", I cheerfully say, but she just hisses "shush, Isabella – I'm listening to The Archers." I eye-roll and leave the overheated kitchen before my hair gets even curlier than usual.

I hear a loud bang behind me and my older brother, Mike, comes hurtling through the front door like a charging elephant. He runs straight upstairs without acknowledging me or anyone else and Mum's eyebrows head towards the ceiling. "That boy," she mutters then carries on listening intently to the trials and tribulations of a fictional village called Ambridge on the radio.

I follow my brother up the stairs and throw my coat on the bed. Even though I'm younger than Mike, I've managed to bag the second big bedroom in our tiny three bedroom/one bathroom terraced council house. When Mike was eight and I was seven, we swopped rooms because the smaller bedroom had a better view of the railway which runs along the bottom of our garden. He was mad on trains when he was a kid and frankly still is. He's almost twenty now and I know he still looks out his window at night, hoping to see the last of the elderly steam locomotives chugging to and from Liverpool Street Station. Deep down I know he'd love to be a train driver, but he's clever, and he's recently started going to college at night to improve his writing skills. Since starting work at the local paper he's realised he's capable of having a good career, and could eventually earn a lot more than a train driver ever could if he worked hard at being a journalist.

I check the bathroom is vacant and run in for a quick wash before Mike takes root on our one and only toilet. I haven't got time for a bath as dinner will be ready soon, but I had one last night so that's okay. I'm meeting my best mate Alice at half past seven by the bus stop on the corner and then we're going to The Roxy. I turned eighteen last September and dad is letting me go to clubs now and stay out until eleven thirty, but no later.

Poplar isn't the safest part of London to be around at night because it's near the London docks. Dad works there, so he's well aware of the type of people who hang around looking for trouble after they've been turfed out of the pubs at eleven o'clock, especially on a Friday night when most people have just got paid. My parents know The Roxy's disco finishes at eleven, so I've got no reason to be home any later than half past. It's a bit annoying, but while I'm living at home I have to abide by their rules.

Mum shouts up to me and Mike that dinner's ready so I fling on my towelling dressing gown and run downstairs. The kitchen's too small for a table so we have our meals on trays in the living room. Friday nights when there's an 'R' in the month is always stew and dumplings with mash and peas followed by bananas and custard, so I go out in the evening with a stomach full of stodge. Mike grabs his tray and takes it upstairs after grunting a "thank you." Mum doesn't object to him eating up there now, because if dad and Mike are in the same room at the moment, they always end up having a screaming argument about politics.

I manage to catch the start of Ready Steady Go and The Beatles are on it tonight. I haven't got time to watch it until the end which is annoying, but I do check out what the presenter, Cathy McGowan, is wearing as she has all the latest gear, _plus_ she gets to meet _all_ the gorgeous pop stars – lucky bitch!

After helping Mum clear up, I get ready for the evening and tune my transistor radio to one of the new pirate radio stations which are my lifeline to good music. My bedroom walls are covered with posters of up and coming bands like The Who and The Troggs, as well as Paul McCartney and the other Beatles of course, and I've also got pictures of my fashion hero, Jean Shrimpton, plus some other not-so-famous girls modelling the latest trends. My family live practically hand to mouth so I can't afford the clothes I'd really like, but I can pick up bargains in Petticoat Lane market on a Sunday morning. Alice has a fantastic eye for this sort of thing and finds me some great bits for around ten shillings which is the only spare money I have each week. She also gives me clothes that she's fed up with, but I tend to wear those to work where no-one knows they're second-hand.

I only have a tiny wardrobe containing my three outfits which are suitable for The Roxy so it doesn't take me long to pick what I'm going to wear. I choose my favourite black and white dogtooth check skirt which flares slightly and stops about three inches above my knee, then team it with a tight-fitting long-sleeved thin black sweater which has a pretty neckline. I put on the silver necklace dad bought me for my eighteenth birthday then carefully pull on my one and only decent pair of stockings, praying I don't get a hole in them tonight.

I sit in front of the mirror and stare at my reflection before starting my make-up routine. Alice has been very patient with me showing me how to apply eyeliner and shadow to enhance my 'liquid brown eyes', which is how she describes them. She's still trying to get me to cut my hair, as the fashion is for either a short pixie style or a shoulder length bob, but I've resisted so far. My 'waist-length when wet' curly brown hair is the one thing that makes me different from the girls who go to The Roxy and I'm determined to keep every inch of it.

All the other girls have caved and got one of the two styles considered to be 'the thing' for 'Mods', which is allegedly what we aspire to be. I'm okay with everything else 'Mod', like the clothes, the make-up, the music and the culture, but no-one is getting anywhere near my hair with a pair of scissors any time soon. This is why I've always considered myself to be on the fringes of this fad and have never felt as though I truly belong in their ranks.

I do my best with the eyeliner and mascara but forego the shadow as I always make a mess of it. I apply the smallest amount of lipstick and smack my lips together to try and spread it around, then give myself a quick spray of _L'aimant_ before slipping my shoes on and heading downstairs.

"I'm going out now," I call as I pull on my imitation leather coat.

"Don't be late," my dad responds as usual.

"No dad," I answer condescendingly in a sing-song voice and put my hand on the door knob.

"Haven't you forgotten something?" mum calls from the kitchen then appears in the doorway with a tea towel draped over her outstretched arm, palm facing upwards. Her eyes widen and she looks at me with a hard stare and a thinly disguised smirk.

"Ooops, yes. Sorry," I reply and pull my purse out, giving her four pound notes for my keep.

"Thank you," she says smugly and turns to go back in the kitchen, tucking half of my hard-earned cash inside her apron pocket. "Have fun," she adds as I open the door.

I quickly make my way to the corner of the street where I can see Alice waving madly at me to hurry.

"What's up," I ask as she drags me out of sight of my front door. The bus isn't due for another five minutes so I can't understand why she's getting so excited.

"We've got a lift to The Roxy," she responds in a high-pitched voice and spins me so I'm looking down the road opposite. I can't help it but I gasp when I see who and what is waiting for us.

Ahead of me are _at least_ fifteen Mod boys on their scooters spread out in a V formation covering the whole width of the road. The local alpha-male, Jacob Black, is at the front, sitting proudly with his legs astride his powerful souped-up Lambretta, looking very fashionable and exceedingly cocky. The identical twin brothers, Eric and Paul, are behind him on their matching Vespa's, and the rest of the Roxy Mods are fanned out behind them. All the boys are wearing matching olive-green parkas and university scarves, even though I know none of them have been to university. Underneath their parkas, I can guess quite confidently they're all wearing Fred Perry's or Ben Sherman's underneath their suit jackets, but I can see the regulation dark mohair trousers, light coloured socks and either black or oxblood Quincy's and that they're all trying desperately to look cool.

"Wanna ride, darling?" Jake offers with a wink and a smirk, nodding at the back of his scooter while running his fingers through his thick mop of black hair.

My eyes are fixated on the scooter and I can hear my dad forcefully warning me, "not to go anywhere near one of those bloody death-traps." I can also hear Alice giggling behind me and then, without any discussion about whether I want to take up Jake's offer or not, she rushes towards a blonde-haired guy who's grinning at her. I don't recognise him at all, but Alice seems to know who he is as she says in a breathy and totally unrecognisable voice, "Hi Jaz," as she settles herself behind him and flings her arms around his waist.

As Alice hasn't allowed me any other option, I walk slowly over to Jake who still has a giant smirk on his face. As I approach him he revs the engine in an effort to either impress me or his fan club behind him.

"You'd better not go too fast," I warn him as I gingerly and hopefully demurely slide one leg over the seat. I try to get myself comfortable behind him with my handbag wedged between my body and his, while thanking my lucky stars I didn't choose my tighter skirt to wear tonight. My feet search for the totally inadequate footrests and I start praying because I've never been on a scooter before and I'm terrified.

Jake chuckles evilly and I know without fail I've set him a challenge. He raises his left arm in the air as though he's giving the signal for an army to charge into battle then drops it as our scooter surges forward, the front wheel lifting slightly off the road surface for a brief moment. Behind me I hear the roar of the other scooters following us but I can still hear Alice squealing in my right ear, even above the deafening cacophony.

I hang on for dear life by grasping handfuls of Jake's parka but still feel totally unsafe as he rounds the first bend. Our knees come so close to the ground that I'm sure I'm going to fall off. To get a better grip I slide my arms around Jake's chest and cling on, my forehead pressed against his shoulder blades and my eyes tightly closed as we hurtle through the streets. By now I'm imagining my weeping parents standing over me while I'm lying comatose on a hospital bed, bandaged from head to toe like an Egyptian mummy, and I'm definitely not expecting to make it to The Roxy in one piece.

But as I get accustomed to the dips and sways and vibrations of this rocket on two-wheels, plus the sheer joy of careering through the streets of East London on a Friday night, I bravely open my eyes and relax somewhat as I begin to feel confident in Jake's ability to keep me safe. I'm then able to appreciate the thrill of being in front of this pack of carefree, fun-loving teenagers who are determined to have a good time tonight, and my breath catches in my throat and my heart leaps.

I look around and behind me at the Mods who are all smiling and laughing together and it's at this moment I accept that Jake's invitation to ride on his scooter with him means I've been accepted into their pack. "In other words, Bella Swan," I convince myself, "you're officially a bona fide member of the Mod culture that's sweeping the nation at the moment, so suck it up," as Alice would say.

Since the day Alice and I first walked into The Roxy about six months ago after I turned eighteen, I've been aware that the Mods are much more than a gang of kids who dress the same. They're part of a national movement, an awakening, a band of brothers and sisters who are identified through their clothes and hairstyles, their choice of music and their free-spirited attitude to life. They rule the teenage world in 1960's Britain, and in the face of adversity they stick together when faced with a common enemy, for instance the gangs of Rockers who stupidly believe they own the streets.

As we cruise around East London, turning the heads of lesser mortals who can't help staring as fifteen scooters thunder through the narrow streets and wider avenues of Poplar, I feel like screaming I'm so excited as I've never experienced anything like this before. When we eventually roar towards The Roxy, where about a hundred or so teenagers are already hanging about outside, I feel 'special' for the first time since coming here, as the scooter boys and girls are the Kings and Queens of The Roxy.

When I'm sure Jake has come to a full stop, I carefully slide off the bike and attempt to stand without falling over as the ground seems to be moving underneath me. It also doesn't help that my legs are shaking uncontrollably from the effort of clinging onto the seat with my knees during the ride and I feel like a complete idiot as I'm sure everyone has noticed. Jake and the pack ride off to park the scooters behind the club while I wait by the entrance for the others to join me, including my supposed best-friend Alice, who annoyingly has abandoned me in my hour of need.

I turn to look at the line of the other Mods who've been waiting patiently for the doors to open at eight. I'm trying nonchalantly to spot a familiar face in the queue, but when I run my eyes along the line, I can't help noticing that without exception, I'm getting the bitch-face from every one of the waiting girls. I can't help smirking because I totally know why. They're jealous.

However I'm not going to pretend to be Jacob Black's latest squeeze, and I don't aspire to be. I'm not particularly pretty in my opinion, _and_ I don't wear the latest fashions, _and_ he is usually only seen with the best looking 'birds', which is how he describes the female of the species. But it was _me_ this time who was on the back of his scooter and it was _me_ who had her arms wrapped around him, and if looks could kill, I'd be six-feet-under by now.

As the doors to the club swing open and the bouncers stroll out onto the pavement to keep the line in order and to check for anyone trying to sneak in who's been previously barred, I hear The Kingsmen's, _Louie Louie_ blaring out from the DJ's massive speakers, which is always the first record played every night. It's played again at least twice more during the evening as it's our official club song and everyone sings along with the chorus at the top of their voices, which is pretty cool.

Alice still hasn't appeared so I begin walking towards the back of the queue on my own, giving the green-eyed monsters a wide berth just in case one of them lunges at me. Just as I get to the end I hear a high-pitched squeal. I turn around to see Alice bouncing towards me, none the worse for her scooter experience and annoyingly still looking immaculate in her genuine leather coat and patent shoes. I notice enviously that not one hair on her head is out of place and her eye make-up still looks perfect, but somehow her lipstick has magically disappeared in the last few minutes.

"Bella, Bella, Bella!" she screams excitedly. "Tonight's gonna be friggin' amazing!"

As Jake and the pack stroll towards us and the level of excitement outside the club builds, Jake winks at me and only me, and I admit to myself _finally_ …

"Bella, you're a Mod…, and you _truly_ belong here."

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed this first chapter where I'm setting the scene for our two main characters.**

FYI:

 **Ready Steady Go** was a pop music TV show that was compulsory viewing for all British teenagers. It aired every Friday night and was a totally new concept in programming (in Britain). Most of the groups and singers performed live in a 'club' atmosphere and Cathy McGowan, who was the female presenter, was rightfully given the title 'Queen of the Mods'. Lots of the old programmes can now be seen on the internet. Definitely worth a look and a fantastic nostalgia trip for anyone who remembers them.

 **Pirate radio stations** started springing up in late 1963 and were the only avenue for British kids to hear decent music. They would broadcast from ships anchored mainly off the south coast of England and they ruled the airwaves until a law called the 'Marine Offences Act' banned them in August 1967. The BBC finally caved and started up their own radio station for 'pop' music in September 1967 called Radio 1, which is still going strong. They recruited many of the pirate DJ's, some of whom are still working for the BBC.

A **parka** is an olive-green, knee-length, heavy cotton loose-fitting coat with a hood. Mod boys wore them over their suits to keep warm and dry. They were fairly cheap to buy. They also wore University/School scarves, which were usually navy or black with a couple of thin coloured stripes running the length of the scarf. My old school's scarf was particularly popular with the Mods, as it was navy with a one bright yellow and one bright blue stripe. I still have mine! (Purchased in 1966).

 **The Archers** is a radio soap-opera that started in 1950 and is still very popular today. It is by far the longest continuously running programme anywhere in the world.

An **E-Type** is a sports car made by Jaguar. They were very fashionable in the 1960's.

 **Petticoat Lane** was an East End market where you could buy cheap clothes and practically anything else. It was only open on Sunday mornings.

Because it's important to the story, the layout of **Edward's mews cottage** is as follows. On the ground floor is a large stable/garage with a separate front door to the living accommodation next to it. When you enter the front door, directly in front of you are the stairs. You walk down the hall past the stairs to the kitchen which goes across the whole of the back of the house behind the garage and overlooks a small garden. Upstairs the living room and Edward's bedroom are above the stable and front door, so you can see the street from the windows. There is one other bedroom and a bathroom that overlook the garden at the back. The mews are white-faced 'terraced' houses, meaning they are adjoined to the houses either side with no gaps in-between. There are no houses on the opposite side of the road, just a flat wall with numerous gates leading to the gardens of the houses in the next road along.

Please either review or email me if you need anything else explaining. I was nine/ten in 1964, but remember the music and the Mods and Rockers very well.

Thanks for reading this far. I hope you're keen to read on.

Joan xx


	3. Chapter 3

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 2**

 **Edward**

The stable doors swing open to reveal my two special ladies who are secured by heavy chains to the concrete floor. I pause for a moment to breathe in their luscious scents and feast my eyes on their magnificent bodies before approaching the lady closest to me. I slide my fingertips over her gold and silver curves and recall the day I first laid eyes on her.

'Tara' was purchased on the same day I received my grandfather's legacy. After being informed by grandpa's solicitor that I was unexpectedly wealthy, which was a total but very pleasant surprise, I walked out of his Baker Street office and headed straight to the nearest motorbike showroom on the Marylebone Road. Within the hour I was the proud owner of a new set of leathers plus Tara, a beautiful, shiny, Norton 650SS with a top speed of 115 miles per hour. Tara was the bike I'd yearned for constantly while at university and had been hopelessly and unsuccessfully saving for since starting work as a lawyer.

I recall that night and our first adventure together with a wistful smile. I carefully rode her to the small flat in Earls Court I shared with a university friend so I could discard the suit I'd worn to the solicitor's office and change into my newly purchased leathers. I remember being so excited about what was to come that my hands were shaking uncontrollably as I was getting dressed. I had to make several attempts to zip the jacket up as I couldn't get the two ends of the fastener to lock together and almost had to ask my flatmate to do it for me.

After escaping the all too frequent red lights and nose to tail traffic between Earls Court and Hammersmith, I opened her up on the A40 Western Avenue on the way to the Ace. We nudged the ton on a long stretch of dual carriageway but didn't quite make it before I was forced to drop the speed, knowing I'd need to stop in the next half mile. At the time I was annoyed I couldn't make the ton, but reassured myself as I slowed down there was always the journey home when the roads would be quieter.

I shake my head as I recall that night and admit to myself, not for the first time, I was way too inexperienced to be in control of the almost fifty horses powering Tara's two wheels as I hadn't given her the respect she deserved. After turning right off the A40 at Hanger Lane, I jumped a red light and took the bend onto the Norf way too fast, and only by the grace of God managed to avoid crashing into a lorry travelling in the opposite direction. The driver saw me coming and swerved out the way in the nick of time and I missed his back wheels by inches.

This near-death experience taught me a valuable lesson, and even though speed is my drug of choice, I'm more aware of mine and Tara's limitations by now because I know her as well as I know myself. She is part of my soul and I respect her moods and nuances. I sense when she's out of sorts and I don't push her if she's not happy, even when I'm desperate to take her to her limit.

I affectionately stroke Tara's leather seat but turn towards my other lady who has been waiting patiently for my attention. I'm sure if I had super-human senses I'd be able to hear her purring contentedly, as Sadie is smugly confident she'll be my ride of choice tonight as she has been since the day I picked her up from the auction house just over four weeks ago.

As soon as I heard on the biking grapevine that a 150 mph Vincent Black Lightning might be going up for sale, I was determined to own her whatever the cost. I had to wait almost three months for her to arrive in my life as no amount of bribery could convince the owner to sell her to me privately. Luckily she went for a much lower price at auction than I was prepared to pay, so the owner seriously messed-up financially by not selling her to me directly.

I never thought I'd be lucky enough to own a Black Lightning as Vincent's stopped making this model in 1952, and most of the ones which hadn't already been totalled were owned by collectors or professional racers. Even though the design was now over twelve years old, the Lightning still held the undisputed honour of being the fastest mass-produced bike in the world.

Vincent is a guy's name, but to me she has always been Sadie, or Sexy Sadie which suits her better as this lady turns me on like no woman has ever come close to doing, giving me a thrill and a rush like no other I've ever experienced, especially when we easily hit a hundred miles an hour, or 'the ton', as it's known in the biking vernacular. I've taken her to a hundred and thirty on the M1, which is still twenty miles short of her limit, but I admit I bottled pushing her any faster than that. One day I'll take her to a track and then I'll really let her go and hopefully survive to tell the tale.

I almost feel like verbally apologising to Tara as I unleash Sadie from her chains and I mentally promise to take her out for a blat one night next week. After giving Sadie a quick visual check, I flick her stand and roll her onto the cobbles then close the stable door, tugging at it a few times to make absolutely sure the locks are in place.

Being the considerate neighbour I am, (I'm not a complete arsehole when I get my leathers on), I roll Sadie to the end of the street before starting her up. When I touch the throttle, the roar of her engine could waken the dead in the nearby churchyard, or at least give residents with a nervous disposition a heart attack. So when I'm sure I'm out of earshot of my immediate neighbours, I slide my left leg over the seat and get myself into position, which includes ensuring my balls are comfortable against the hard leather seat as there's nothing worse than having to rearrange yourself when you're tanking down the A40 and your nadgers start to throb.

I slide my leg into position and close my eyes before I kick-start her, as I want my hearing to be unimpeded by other senses when I hear Sadie's exquisite contralto voice for the first time. I hold my breath as I depress the kick-lever twice to prime the engine with oil before I turn on the ignition and the fuel valve and then I wait for a few seconds. I put my full-force on the lever and feel Sadie vibrate, massaging my balls delightfully for a fraction of a second, before a sound that could compete against the thundering hooves of a hundred stampeding horses fills the air around me. After a few seconds of unfeminine, deafening growls, (maybe I should have called her Steve or Dave instead), her engine settles to a gentle purr until I touch the throttle again and the tigress re-awakens.

I kick the stand and massage the throttle gently and the bike lurches forward. Even though Sadie and I have been out on the road at least twenty times by now, I'm still cautious when she starts moving as the power I have at my fingertips is staggering. I tentatively approach the High Street and turn Sadie towards Earls Court as I'll be heading in the opposite direction from central London's trendy bars and swinging night clubs tonight. Our destination is _a tad_ more down-market than those hipster joints, but the venue of choice is unique, and probably more famous around the world than The Marquee or Ronnie Scott's.

I speed up gradually, listening carefully to Sadie's growls and purrs while skilfully weaving my way through the practically stationary traffic inching its way through the town. I run a few red lights, but I sense we're not in any danger as the cars waiting to cross the junctions haven't even moved when we flash in front of them. I still can't get Sadie's speed up to over fifty as I'm obliged to stop occasionally, but once we hit the A40 at Hammersmith I know there won't be another set of traffic lights for at least three miles, and that's all the invitation I need to let Sadie do what she was put on this earth for.

I bend over Sadie like a lover, my chin almost touching her glistening handlebars, my chest inches away from the petrol tank, my eyes fixed on the open road ahead and my body coiled like a spring. As Sadie's speed increases, the varied hues of the cars and lorries sharing the road with me blend together like an impressionist painting as I swerve through the narrow gaps between them, all the time watching for any indication that my four-wheeled adversaries are attempting to block my path.

I'm an experienced and instinctive rider by now and my reflexes are tuned to react in a micro-second to the smallest movement. I feel as though I can read the minds of the drivers ahead of me; just a flash of a brake light or the slight turn of a wheel alerts me to danger and I zip into the next lane and continue on at a reckless pace, roaring along at seventy, eighty, ninety miles an hour.

I can feel the skin on my face contorting wildly and my fingers gradually becoming numb with cold, even through thick leather gloves, but this doesn't deter me as I push Sadie to go faster. She's screaming blue murder as we reach ninety-five and I know we're going to make it. As we race rapidly towards the outskirts of West London, I yell in triumph as the needle hits the ton and I hold Sadie there for about ten seconds before letting go; allowing her speed to drop gradually to a comfortable eighty in preparation for when we reach the numerous sets of traffic lights in Acton, as I know from experience at least one set will force me to stop.

The feeling of exhilaration catches in my throat and I sense tears starting in my eyes but they're not from the wind or the cold; they're there due to a combination of relief and gratitude that I've survived a moment of extreme danger again. I fully accept I could have died in those previous few minutes, and that each time I take Sadie or Tara out on the road and drive at excessive speeds I'm risking my life, but I _need_ to do this, as there's absolutely nothing else in my life which gives me the same adrenalin rush, nothing else which thrills me as much as speed, and nothing else which makes me feel so completely _alive_.

I turn off the A40 at Hanger Lane and speed down the Norf until I catch sight of the first of the three heavy stone and iron railway bridges that span the road, which is my signal to slow right down. I drop Sadie's speed to thirty and prepare to swing off when I reach my destination, and as I travel under the first bridge, the familiar battered façade of the Ace Café comes into view. I pull onto the wide forecourt where about thirty motorbikes are parked in well-ordered lines and after I bring Sadie to a halt amongst a row of lesser models, I give Sadie permission to show her gratitude to me for allowing her to achieve the ton by letting her roar like a wild animal, which also serves as an announcement of my arrival to the Rockers who are already in the Ace.

I can see heads turning in my direction as I slide off Sadie's back, and I know the guys inside the Café are lusting after my ride and the girls are lusting after me. I vainly run my fingers through my hair, pulling a long lock over my forehead for added coolness, then undo my jacket and adjust myself in my jeans before I cockily stroll into the Café as though it's nothing special to be the acknowledged King of the Ace, fuck-hot as far as the girls are concerned, and the lucky bastard who rides the fastest production motorbike in the world.

I see the usual Friday-night crowd sitting around two long Formica tables on the far side of the Café and the guys acknowledge my arrival with manly grunts of welcome and the girls just stare at me and smile. As I cross the floor towards them, while remembering to salute the large group of Hell's Angels gathered in the opposite corner, Tanya gets up from her chair and walks towards me, swaying her leather-covered hips provocatively in time to the rock and roll music being played on the juke box. By the time she's standing so close to me I can feel warmth radiating from her body, my dick is twitching in anticipation of what's obviously on offer. Without asking for permission, she slips her ring-adorned fingers under my t-shirt and runs her warm hands over my ice-cold, rock-hard abs, then slides them behind me and up my back before digging her blood-red talons into my skin.

I raise my eyebrows as if I'm questioning her motives, even though you'd have to be totally dumb not to guess what she's asking for. She gives me a seductive smile and whispers in my ear…

"If sin could take human form, it'd look like you, Eddie Masen."

I pull her towards me and kiss lips that taste of tea, cigarettes and chocolate, then whisper back…

"Yeah? Well, if you're up for it, I'll gladly take you to Hell'n back. You coming?"

Her eyes light up which is all the permission I need to take her to the place where we can indulge in my second favourite pastime. I hear the guys chuckling as I pull her towards the ladies toilet which thankfully is vacant. By now my dick is rock-hard in anticipation of what is most definitely going to go down, so I slam the door shut and push her hard against it to stop any other fucker coming in. My hands grab the hem of her leather skirt, pulling it up roughly around her waist so I can drag her panties to one side. I'm still high from the ride and this is exactly what I need to disperse the adrenalin that's coursing through my veins.

I pull a Johnnie from the stash I keep in the inside pocket of my jacket and tear it open with my teeth. After swiftly sliding it over my throbbing dick using only one hand, (I'm a fucking expert at this by now), I roughly smash my mouth against Tanya's and grab one of her ample tits while moving myself into position. This is going to be fast and furious and I so fucking need it.

"Theresa, Tanya, whatever you fucking call yourself now," I hiss as I push in and start pumping hard. "This is what sin feels like, darlin', so say your prayers, 'coz you're in for the ride of your fucking life!"

* * *

 **Bella**

I hand my coat over to the tightly-permed cloakroom attendant, who gives me a numbered ticket and a look of disgust when she hangs my cheap copy next to the genuine leather or suede coats on the rail. I'm used to this by now and I'm not going to say I don't care because I do, but there's absolutely no point getting upset about it. There's no way I'll ever be able to afford a real leather or suede coat anytime soon so I'll have to get by with the imitation leather which still looks smart but isn't very warm.

Alice is still bouncing as she drags me over to the bar, immediately catching the eye of Stan, the middle-aged barman, who I'm sure has the hots for her.

"Rum and Black" she calls out to Stan, then turns to me waving a ten shilling note in my face. "What you havin' Bella; I'm buying tonight."

"No, I'll buy my own," I respond, as I really can't afford to return the favour.

"Don't be silly," she replies as she's guessed what's going on in my head. "Dad gave me a fiver for the weekend, so have a proper drink for a change."

I gulp at that comment because five pounds is more than what I have to live on all week. "I'll just have a coke if that's okay," I say gratefully while mentally thinking that's a shilling I don't have to spend this evening.

Alice looks at me and huffs then rolls her eyes in defeat as we've had this argument before and she's reluctantly accepted that I don't drink alcohol and have no intention of starting.

"A coke as well please, Stan," then she gives him the full-on eyelash-fluttering vamp treatment, knowing full well he'll put a double-rum in her blackcurrant.

"Come on," she squeals when we've got our drinks and drags me across the dance floor to where the boys have congregated in the corner. She sidles up to the boy who gave her a lift and introduces me.

"Hi, Bella," he says in a smooth, almost cultured accent that's definitely not East London or Cockney. "You're Alice's best friend I hear," he adds politely, giving me the opportunity to continue the conversation.

"Um, yes," I reply nervously.

There's something about this boy's light blue eyes that unnerve me, as though he can see right through my top and is making a judgement about my underwear. I shake my head to get that image out of my head and smile at him. "I've never seen you here before," I add. "Do you live around here?"

"No," he replies, returning my smile as though he can read my thoughts and is trying to put me at ease. "I live in central London with my parents, but the clubs up there are pretentious crap compared to this, so I prefer to hang out with real people. Eric and Paul's father works for my father, so when I heard they were into scooters and all things Mod, I asked to be introduced to them. The rest, as you say, is history."

I was expecting an answer like, "No, I'm from Dulwich", or something like that, so Jaz's comprehensive reply was a lot to take in.

"Oh, right," I eloquently reply and take a sip of my coke.

"Are you Jake's girlfriend?" he asks quite innocently, not knowing that Jake is standing right behind him.

"If she plays her cards right, she could be one day," Jake answers confidently and smugly, making Jaz jump.

I stand there with my mouth open as I take in this gem of an offer. Okay, Jake's good looking, and he's the unelected pack leader around here with all the kudos that goes with that title, but his attitude just in that statement pisses me off and I reply with a double-helping of ' _sark_.'

"Thanks for the ride up here, Jake, but I should've warned you before accepting it that I don't play cards or any other game, so I think I'll pass on your generous invitation, thank you."

I turn my back on Jake and Jaz and waltz away while giving a side-eyed smug-face to Alice, whose mouth has fixed itself into an uncomfortable pout. One of my favourite tunes is playing so I worm my way into the middle of the dance floor and lose myself in the music, at the same time patting myself on the head for standing up for woman-kind for a change. I feel like grabbing a sash from somewhere and marching around The Roxy shouting "Votes for Women!"

I was expecting Alice to join me as she loves dancing, even though she's got absolutely no sense of rhythm, but by the end of the song she hasn't appeared so I look around and spot her at the bar again so I wander over.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at?" she hisses at me as she picks up her second Rum and Black. "That's Jake you've just turned down. Are you out of your mind?"

"I haven't turned him down," I snap. "I just didn't like the way he presumed in front of Jaz that I'd do anything to go out with him. I'm not that type of girl, Alice, and never will be."

"He wasn't asking you to have sex with him for Christ's sake, Bella. He's an alright guy; Jaz says so."

I look over to where Jake's standing and notice he's staring at me with a shocked expression on his face. I wonder whether he's not used to being turned down flat and has had a stroke or something, but I'm way too embarrassed now to go over to him and apologise for being rude, if that's what I was.

"Ah well, I've missed my golden opportunity," I say philosophically to Alice. "Let's have a dance," I suggest, and drag _her_ this time onto the dance floor. The DJ has managed to pick up some imported Soul samples which are amazing, so he cranks the volume up and I can feel the sprung floor vibrating under my feet from the bass. I close my eyes and dance to _Martha and the Vandella's_ pumping out a song about a _Heatwave_ and the heavy beat and the glitter-ball lights become absorbed into the very core of my being and I love it. I open my eyes and take in the sight of about two hundred teenagers and twenty-somethings being sucked into the heady atmosphere of the club and I feel like screaming with joy.

 _'The Weekend Starts Here'_ is the proclamation at the start of Ready Steady Go every Friday night, and as Martha's words 'burn in my heart' like the lyrics of the song, I know that Friday nights are just the best, and life for me, despite the hardships, is good, really really good.

I feel some definitely male arms sliding around my waist while I'm dancing but before I have a chance to turn to see who it is, I recognise Jake's voice speaking in my ear.

I can't make out what he's saying, so I swing round and shout, "What did you just say?"

"I said I'm sorry," he yells, just as the music finishes abruptly and everyone's eyes are suddenly fixed on us.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters angrily then grabs hold of my arm and drags me across the dance floor until we're out of the way of the speakers. I don't have much option but to go with him, even though I'm totally embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," he repeats when we're out of the way of the noise. "I'm an arse for saying that to you. Jaz gave me a right ear-bashing when you walked away. He told me I'd behaved like a complete prick."

I chuckle for a moment and nod my head in agreement. "Jaz is right. You didn't do yourself any favours, Jake. Girls don't like being spoken to like that."

"I know, I'm sorry, Bella. I'm not really a prick. Anyway, can I buy you a drink to make amends?"

"Okay," I respond as there's no harm in him doing that and also there's the added bonus that I would save another shilling.

Jake orders himself a London Pride bitter and I ask for another coke after explaining to Jake that I don't drink alcohol. He doesn't make any comment about this as he carries our drinks to a table at the far end of the dance floor and finds us two chairs so we can sit down.

He takes a long drink of his beer then clears his throat as though he's preparing to make a speech.

"Do you want to go to the pictures with me on Wednesday night, Bella?" he asks quickly.

I choke on my coke as I really wasn't expecting this.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" I ask and I can feel my temperature starting to rise.

"Err, yes. Don't look so shocked. I'm not _that_ awful, am I?"

"No, I mean yes, I mean ….. why are you asking _me_ for a date, Jake? I'm not your usual type."

Jake looks taken aback for a moment by that statement. "What's my usual type, Bella?"

I don't have to think about how to answer this question.

"Definitely pretty…, um rich with all the right gear..., umm ea….". I was going to say 'easy', but stop myself. I don't like judging people and I don't know for certain whether his previous girlfriends had given it up, even though I'd heard some pretty lurid rumours from Alice.

"So you don't think you're pretty, do you?" he replies. "I think you're very pretty, Bella. You're also different to the other girls here. You don't conform and you've got your own style. You make market clothes look like they've come from the West End. You've got beautiful hair which you've refused to cut to be like the other girls. Your eyes are stunning and you don't need to plaster a ton of make-up on as your complexion is translucent. You're a rose in a garden of weeds, Bella. Don't _ever_ think anything different."

I stare at Jake open mouthed as I've never heard a guy speak like he's swallowed a poetry book before, and Jake's the last person I'd have thought would come out with so many compliments, including the word 'translucent'. I look down at my knees as I know I'm blushing and I'm trying to think of something succinct to say.

"That's very kind of you," I mutter while wondering whether to return the compliment by saying, "you're not bad looking either," but decide silence is the best policy.

"So … will you let me take you to the pictures on Wednesday?

"Um, yes Jake, thanks," I reply, wondering what Alice's reaction's going to be.

"Great, I'll pick you up at seven. Can I have your phone number, just in case there's a problem?"

"I don't have … I mean, _we_ don't have a phone. I use the box on the corner,"

"Ah, right. Okay. Not to worry. I'll definitely pick you up at seven then."

I'm totally embarrassed as Jake must think I live in a hovel. Dad has always said we don't need a phone, but since he became a Trades Union Shop Steward he's beginning to think differently as his members sometimes need to get hold of him urgently, so I'm hoping he'll think again and we'll get one installed soon.

Jake stands up and takes hold of my hand then leads me onto the dance floor as the DJ is playing _Up on the Roof_ , by _The_ _Drifters_ , which is another club favourite. As he slips his arms around me and starts swaying in time to the music, I can feel a hundred pairs of eyes boring into my back, as every girl who hasn't been asked for a slow dance is staring daggers at me. As Jake buries his face in my hair and sings some of the lyrics in my ear, my only thought is whether I'll be in any danger if I need to go to the loo. I might get ambushed and my head stuck down the toilet if I go on my own so decide to take Alice or Angela with me, just in case.

I must admit though I'm enjoying being the centre of attention for once. Jake is very handsome and to be honest I have fancied him for quite a while, but have never, ever, considered being part of his circle as girls like me don't belong in the spotlight. As the music comes to an end I go to break away, but Jake cups my chin in his hand and looks me in the eyes and I know he's asking permission to kiss me. I nod my head and he gently places his lips on mine then pulls away smiling.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asks, then without waiting for a reply he launches himself on my mouth and gives me a full-on sensuous kiss which makes me tingle all over.

"Okay?" he whispers in my ear when he pulls away and I nod my head vigorously.

"Practice makes perfect," he whispers and kisses me again, this time gently pushing his tongue into my mouth. I know from Alice this is called a ' _French_ _Kiss'_ , which is a totally new experience for me, but I like it and inadvertently let out a little moan, then I suddenly remember this is all happening in front of an audience. I panic when I realise I've stopped breathing and quickly pull away.

"Sorry," I mutter, thinking Jake will immediately dump me for being a useless kisser.

"That's okay, Bella," he smoothly reassures me. "We've got plenty of time to learn, haven't we?"

He leads me from the dance floor with his arm nonchalantly slung over my shoulders and I can see Alice hopping up and down with glee.

She sprints up to me and whispers in my ear. "Didn't I say tonight would be amazing?"

I grin widely as Jake pulls me into his side. "Yes, you did, Alice," I reply. "Come to think of it, instead of training to be a beautician, why don't you become a friggin' clairvoyant?"

* * *

 **So, Edward is with Tanya and Bella is with Jake (for the moment). How are Edward and Bella's very different worlds going to collide? You'll find out in the next chapter.**

FYI:

 **The Norf,** is the Rockers' name for the A406 North Circular Road, which was/is still a very busy dual carriageway that goes around the top of London. (There is also a South Circular Road). In 1964, Hanger Lane was just a busy crossroads of the Norf and the Western Avenue. Now it's a massive roundabout called 'The Gyratory System'. In the 60's there was no barrier between the lanes on the Norf and the bend by Norbeck Parade, and that stretch of road was infamous for serious accidents, which is where Edward nearly hit the lorry.

 **The Ace Cafe** on the NCR is now a world-famous meeting place for bike enthusiasts. It has its own website, so please do check it out as there's some great information there including a history of the time I'm writing about. I lived about half a mile away from it when I was growing up and remember hearing packs of Rockers roaring past my house at night.

 **Johnnies** are obviously condoms. **The pictures** is obviously the Cinema.

Do let me know if there is anything else that needs explaining.

Joan x


	4. Chapter 4

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 3**

Monday 23rd March 1964

 **Edward**

Monday, effing Monday. Someone will make a song about Mondays one day; everybody hates them.

I've woken up with a thumping headache, but at least I made it back home late last night and I'm in my own bed for the first time since Friday morning. Before getting up, I allow my eyes to become accustomed to the sliver of natural daylight filtering through a gap in my curtains, whilst congratulating myself on surviving the weekend in one piece. I'd like to stay put for a while longer because I'm warm and comfy, but I know from experience it takes more time than usual on Monday mornings to get ready for work.

Reluctantly I force myself to roll out of bed and drag my aching body into the bathroom where I immediately notice my hands are still stained with oil and grease from the bikes. Pretty certain of what horrors I would see, I elect not to look at my face in the mirror until I've washed the detritus of the previous two and a half days off my disgustingly filthy skin.

After blessing the plumber who convinced me to install a separate shower cubicle when my replacement bathroom was being installed, I fumble with the various knobs and taps and wait until the water's reached the right temperature before stepping in. I audibly sigh with gratitude to Joe Bloggs, or whatever the plumber's name was, as I stand face-upwards under the soothing cascade of blissful warmth that's doing its very best to revive me.

The water swirling around my feet looks filthy against the white tiles and it takes a while before it runs completely clean. "How the hell have I got this dirty," I ask myself as I scrub my neck and arms with a loofah and have to wash my greasy hair three times to get a stubborn lump of oil out. Then I recall spending a large chunk of the weekend lying on the floor of Emmett's garage in Kilburn, which to be fair is actually a fully kitted-out motorbike workshop. After we left The Ace on Friday night, before going to bed we tinkered with Emmett's Triumph Bonneville plus Sadie and some other bikes that he fixes to earn money, while chatting about all things 'bike'. We stayed up until about three in the morning, and then 'tinkered' again all of Sunday afternoon and evening until I reluctantly set off for home at about midnight.

I hung around with Emmett for the whole weekend, which is what I normally do most weekends. I have to sleep on an uncomfortable, narrow camp bed in his spare room on Friday and Saturday nights, then invariably spend Sunday mornings and the first two hours of the afternoon sleeping off the effects of the previous day and night until lunch is ready, then we mess about in his garage again until I have to return to real life. We always fit in some high-speed adventures and reckless behaviour with the pack, which is exactly what happened when we went out with them all day Saturday.

Emmett is my best mate. He's American and a gentle giant with huge muscles and an even huger heart. He came over to England in September '62 to escape the Draft and is lodging with a middle-aged lady called Carol, who is one of his English mother's old university friends. She also happens to make the most awesome breakfasts and Sunday lunches, so I certainly didn't starve this weekend.

Emmett claims to be a pacifist and supports the CND/Ban the Bomb activists my father insists should be put against a wall and shot as traitors. Whatever he is, he didn't want to risk being called up and sent to Vietnam to get his arse shot off, so when he finished college when he was twenty-one, he came over to England for a 'holiday' with no intention of going back. Through Carol he keeps in regular touch with his folks who are funding him and who are also pacifists, and he reckons he'll stay in England until the war is definitely over. He's not a Rocker in the true sense of the word, but he's a genuine bike enthusiast. What he hasn't learned about fixing or tuning bikes isn't worth knowing, which is how he makes a living now.

The water starts to run cold so I get out and dry off before wandering into the bedroom naked, not caring that my un-netted windows are overlooked by the houses in the next street. Okay, I'll admit it, I'm an exhibitionist, and I don't care who sees me because I'm not ashamed of my body. Maybe I'm making an old lady's day by prancing around the house with everything hanging out? I'll probably never know.

I shave for the first time since Friday morning and after towelling my hair dry, I run some cream into it to encourage it to lie flat then get dressed in my dark navy suit. I've got five work suits, including a black one I only wear on court days. I'm not a barrister yet, that's still a few years off, but I like to dress the part when I'm assisting in court. I remember Friday's trousers which need cleaning so I find a plastic bag at the bottom of the wardrobe and slide them in along with a couple of ties that have stains on them, then go down to the kitchen where I finish off the pint of milk, again without a glass, and demolish the other two hot cross buns that are now slightly stale, so I slather them with butter.

Before I leave the house for work, I check the stable doors to make sure they're secure just in case I'd been lazy about the locks when I got in last night. When I'm satisfied my girls are safe, I set off for the station and the inevitable soul-destroying train journey to Blackfriars. I'd love to be able to bike to work but there's nowhere safe in the City to park such valuable bikes, and even if there were I'd be worrying about them all day. Also, more importantly, I don't want this side of my life to be revealed to my colleagues as I prefer to keep this and many other aspects regarding my personal life private.

The train isn't as packed as usual and I remember with glee that the schools broke up last week for the Easter holiday, which means this coming Friday and the following Monday are bank holidays. Two four day weeks and a four day weekend in between – bloody marvellous! I still have to stand all the way to Blackfriars though but there's plenty of room on the train and I find a spot where I can lean against a glass partition and read my morning paper in peace.

Once I'm off the train, I take my clothes into the dry cleaners then carry on to the office in Fleet Street. Margaret, our secretary, who's been with the firm for donkey's years, usually gets in about half an hour before everyone else and stocks the kitchen with enough fresh milk to last the day and keeps us fully supplied with tea, coffee and biscuits. Jane, our dotty receptionist, post girl and switchboard operator, usually appears about ten seconds before nine, just in time to fling her coat on the hook and settle herself in her seat before the deadline. Her desk is empty when I walk through the door so I carry on up the stairs without my arse being stared at, (which I definitely know she does because one of the other guys told me), to where the tiny office I've just inherited from a colleague who retired last week is located.

Margaret, bless her, has a cup of tea and a biscuit waiting for me on my desk. I'm the baby of the law firm and she does tend to mother me, and I totally let her. I recently persuaded Mr Jenks, the boss, to allow Margaret to purchase an electric kettle for the staff, and this has revolutionised our working environment as waiting for the old-fashioned kettle to boil on our ancient two-ring electric hob took forever. Still basking in this success but not wanting to push it, I've decided to leave it a few months before I start trying to convince him to buy a filter coffee machine, as that Nescafe powdered shit which pretends to be coffee isn't worth drinking and I have to resort to going to Lyons for a proper fix occasionally.

I'm not yet in the right frame of mind to start attacking the pile of files Margaret has helpfully arranged on my desk in order of priority, so I sip my tea slowly and stare out the window for a while and watch the hordes of office workers hurrying towards their daily grind.

From my high vantage point which is directly above the reception area and Margaret's office, I can see the Art Deco entrance of the Daily Express newspaper in Fleet Street which is directly opposite our building. Since acquiring my own office and the view last week, I've started watching the Express staff arriving and leaving, and, like I do with my fellow travellers, I try and guess what jobs the employees have.

The typists are easy; the girls all look the same. Short hair, flat shoes, straight skirts, poplin raincoats and over-large fake-leather handbags where they keep their cigarettes and packed lunches. The young, scruffy guys are reporters or photographers, and they rush in and out at all times of the day, probably hoping they've got the scoop of the century. The older men are the editors, and they either arrive in black cabs or a chauffeured car. The actual printing staff come and go from another entrance so they're a mystery to me, but in my imagination they're all hard faced middle-aged men who work during the late afternoon and into the early hours, churning out the right-wing crap that keeps their Tory readership happy, so I'll stick to my left-leaning Guardian, thank you.

I'm watching a group of girls in their late teens or early twenties hanging around outside the entrance. I've seen some of them before and I've noticed they only congregate there if the weather's fine, and last week it rained every day except for Friday. It's only about eight fifty and I guess they don't need to be at their desks until nine, so they're obviously making the most of their last opportunity to be outside before they're cooped up in an airless office for the rest of the day. Most of them are taking their last chance to have a cigarette and I'd guess they're chatting about their weekend activities.

As I said, they all look the same apart from one girl with her back to me who has long, curly, dark brown hair and I notice she's the only one who isn't smoking. Her hair is hanging loose rather than in a bun or a ponytail, and I can't help imagining running my hands through it and feeling how soft it is between my fingers. I adore long hair and have always preferred brunettes to blondes, and this girl's hair is making my dick twitch, which is not ideal in a working environment.

I turn away from the window and drag the file off the paper mountain onto the ink blotter in front of me and open it up. It's a cut and dried case of constructive dismissal. A rogue company wanted to get rid of some of its staff but thought they could get around paying redundancy by sacking ten workers for theft. One of the managers gave them 'bonuses' in cash just before Christmas and then reported the theft of money to the police. The workers had their houses raided that night and numbered notes were seized. The company got the money back and gave the workers the option of being sacked with no charges being pressed, or denying the charge and going to Court with the chance of being sent to prison. All the workers opted to be sacked and then went to their Union. My job was to investigate the company and assist the Union in an Employment Tribunal which was due to be held next week. What I found out through going through old Court records was this company had pulled this scam twice before and got away with it, so this would be the basis of our case and I expected to win. Bastards!

I look across the street again and the girls are moving towards the building. The brown haired girl is one of the last to go through the heavy glass doors but annoyingly she doesn't turn her head so I can see her face. She's very slim and I would guess only about five foot four or five, but there's something about the way she moves that attracts me. She's light on her feet when she runs up the steps, like a dancer, which intrigues me even more. I turn back to the file when she disappears and attempt to dismiss her from my thoughts by focusing on the job in hand, while trying to convince myself she's probably only about sixteen and more than likely not very bright if the only job she could get is in a typing pool. Then I admonish myself for being an arse for thinking like that.

Margaret sticks her head around the door and gives me a motherly smile.

"Did you have a nice weekend, Mr. Cullen?" she asks.

Memories of the carnal and dangerous activities which filled my weekend flash through my mind and I swallow hard. If Margaret _really_ knew what I'd got up to, it would turn her mousey-brown hair white.

"Lovely thank you, Margaret," I reply with a radiant smile. "I went out of town to stay with friends who live north of London then we met up with some other pals on Saturday and went for a super drive in the countryside and had a nice pub lunch. It was very pleasant."

"Oh, that sounds lovely, and _so_ much nicer than wasting your time in those new-fangled discotheques or night clubs. I'm sure the girls in those places aren't the type you would want to take home to your parents."

"You're absolutely correct, Margaret, and Margaret, I keep saying you can call me Edward. Only call me Mr Cullen when I have visitor, or in front of Mr Jenks."

I give her another smile as she leaves, knowing full well she'll ignore my invitation to be less formal and will carry on calling me Mr Cullen, and then I chuckle under my breath.

I didn't exactly lie to her as I did visit 'friends' in North London. The Ace Café and Emmett's place are technically in North-West London, just not in the posh bits like Hampstead or Barnet, and we did drive out into the countryside and meet other friends, but not in the manner I'm sure Margaret is imagining.

About twenty-five Rockers from the Ace met up on Saturday morning and took off for a high-speed adventure through the first bit of decent countryside a traveller meets when you escape the London sprawl. It was the first warm weekend of the year and it was great to be able to ride without being restricted by unforgiving leather trousers, double-thickness gloves and annoying scarves. I was still chilled to the bone when we set off, as the fresh morning air slapped my unprotected face, making my cheeks tingle and my eyes water. My bare fingers felt numb as we hurtled down country lanes at ridiculous speeds, but I was relishing sensing my first hint of freedom from the depressing yoke of a five-month, cold, wet winter, and as the sun rose to its full height I could genuinely feel my blood warming in my veins.

Riding amongst the pack was what I loved the most, even though the noise from over twenty muscular bikes roaring around me practically made my ears bleed. Cars and lorries dived out of our way when they heard us approaching and pedestrians would stop and stare; some protectively clutching their children as we roared past as though they were scared we were going to kidnap them. Sometimes we would hear cheering if we passed a group of girls and we would wave back, but mainly the reaction of the general public was to steer clear of us and let us pass through as quickly as possible in the hope we'd bother another sleepy town further away.

We were out on the country roads for about two hours, roaring through small villages and careering down leafy lanes only wide enough for a tractor. We had a few near-misses with cars travelling in the opposite direction and it was funny to see drivers initially having a go at the first bike they encountered, but when they saw the cavalry coming up behind they would quickly wind their windows up, lock their car doors and give way. I'm not a bully at heart, but it would be very easy for this sort of pack mentality to go to your head, so it was important for me to always smile and wave at the nervous drivers as we rode past.

Some of the Rockers were definitely a bit nuts, but most of us in the Ace pack were just motorbike enthusiasts who enjoyed being out on the road together. There were a few guys at the Ace who always looked for trouble but we didn't make them feel welcome whenever they turned up, and we didn't let on about meet-ups like the one on Saturday. Some of the Rockers were already in their thirties and I was aware they had wives and children at home, but the talk when we got to the pub was never about anything other than bikes, or reminiscing about adventures we'd had in the past.

Our infamous rivalry with the Mods was hardly ever discussed until a bank holiday weekend was approaching, so where to go over Easter was an early topic of conversation. The warmer resorts around the south coast were always the most popular destinations, because if the Mods didn't turn up, at least we could have a bit of fun on the beach or in the town, and there were always plenty of girls anxious to 'have a go' on our bikes as pillion passengers.

We started drinking in the pub at about twelve o'clock and as the day went on, more Rockers from other packs turned up and a heavy drinking session ensued. I stayed outside the pub most of the time keeping my eye on Sadie. She was the Rockers' main attraction and some of the guys asked whether they could have a ride on her. I declined, obviously. They could look but not touch. To me it would be the same as someone asking whether they could borrow my wife or girlfriend for the night, and that certainly wasn't going to happen.

As the afternoon wore on, I could tell that some of the guys from our pack and other packs had drunk way too much and tempers were starting to fray, so I suggested to Emmett we should head back to the Ace before the fights started breaking out. It was inevitable someone would say something offensive to a member of another pack and a few tables and several noses would get broken, so we got on our way at just after three. A guy called Sam who was carrying Tanya on pillion said he would come with us and in the end about ten of our original group hit the road.

We'd had a blast, but a six-sense always told me when enough was enough. I'd had about eight pints of beer over three hours so still felt okay, but some of the guys had drunk way more than me. I wasn't too drunk to have sex, so I shagged Tanya in the ladies loo at the Ace before going back to Emmett's which was a great way to end the day.

My Tanya really is a game girl as she accepts I'll never be a 'boyfriend' in the true sense of the word. She likes having sex with me and I take advantage. Who wouldn't? I sometimes feel guilty about this, but having a regular girlfriend has never been a burning ambition of mine. I know it will happen one day, but until then I'm not actively looking for love as I don't feel I have anything missing from my life. Occasionally Emmett gives me a disapproving stare when Tanya and I emerge from our 'love nest', but I've never pressed any girl to have sex if she's giving out signals she's not up for it.

On Sunday morning I slept off my drinking and sex-session in Carol's spare room and woke up in time for an awesome Sunday lunch. After recovering from over-eating, I spent the rest of the day on Emmett's garage floor tinkering with the bikes and talking about America. Emmett's family live in Connecticut but he tells me about cities like New York and Boston and of course Washington, where he was in the crowd with his parents when Kennedy was inaugurated. I know he misses his home country and he feels guilty about other guys filling the space he's left vacant in the army, but he's passionately anti-war, believing that dialogue is the only way to sort out the world's problems.

I dismiss memories of the weekend from my mind and turn my attention back to the pile of files in front of me. To be honest I enjoy what I do. Life is tough for the ordinary working man or woman in 1960's Britain, and despite all the progress that's happening in the country since the end of the war, the working classes are still shit on from a great height by those in power. I'm talking about company bosses and their management, the banks, and, I hate to admit it, the judiciary, who ninety-nine percent of the time takes the side of all those arses I've mentioned before.

Jenks' law firm is widely known in this part of London as willing to fight these injustices. We take Legal Aid cases mainly, or for a fraction of the fee that most lawyers charge, we represent people who have been taken advantage of by those who should know better. Our most lucrative clients are the Trades Unions, who are now getting more organised and are setting up their own legal teams, but at the moment don't have access to the information qualified lawyers can get their hands on, which is where we come in.

Mr Jenks grunts a welcome as he passes my door then carries on towards his much larger office which overlooks a quiet courtyard at the back of the building. He's roughly the same age as my father and I wonder what will happen to this firm when he retires. I would hope another philanthropic lawyer would offer to take over, but as we are generally hated by the courts and considered to be 'traitors' by some sections of the legal profession, I can't see this happening to be honest.

I look out the window again and think about the girl with the long brown hair and wonder what she's doing and whether I'll see her again today. I presume she'll go for a walk at lunchtime so I'll be able to see what she looks like then. I'm not expecting her to be anything special but I'm still intrigued.

The pavements are much quieter now as the worker ants have disappeared into their nests. They won't appear again until lunchtime, so I look down at grandpa's watch and it's just before nine thirty. Only three hours and a bit to wait until the brown haired girl appears again. Maybe I'll see her face this time?

I adjust myself in my trousers and put my hands on either side of my eyes, forcing myself to concentrate on the file in front of me. "This is f… is ridiculous," I say to myself and then my phone rings, distracting me from my carnal thoughts.

* * *

 **Bella**

I honestly can't remember my bus ride to work. I've been staring into space for the last fifteen minutes still thinking about being asked out on a date, and by Jacob Black no less. Thankfully the lady sitting next to me by the window asks me to move so she can get off just as the bus arrives at my stop, otherwise I would probably be on my way to the West End by now. I'd been day-dreaming about Friday night and what could possibly happen on Wednesday when Jake takes me to the cinema, and frankly The Beatles, Elvis Presley and Cliff Richard could have been passengers on the bus and I wouldn't have noticed.

I can see Sue waving at me as I walk the fifty yards or so to the entrance of the Express building. She's lighting up a cigarette so I try and stand out of the way of the smoke, but it's a waste of time as most of the other girls light up as soon as they arrive and I'm then immersed in a cloud of nicotine. Ugh!

"How was your weekend?" Sue asks out of politeness as she's not expecting me to have any exciting tales to tell.

"Pretty good, actually," I respond and I can't help a smug grin appearing on my face.

"Come on, tell," Sue says excitedly. "Actually don't tell me, let me guess. You won the football pools?"

I chuckle with laughter. If I'd won the pools, I wouldn't be dragging myself out of bed at god-awful o'clock to work in a typing pool all day. I'd be in the West End with Alice and my mum by now, buying some decent clothes and then booking a holiday in the sun.

"No, nothing like that," I reply.

"What then?" she squeals, which attracts the attention of some of the other girls.

"Oh … just that I got asked out on Friday night by a really nice boy, and we're going to the pictures on Wednesday, that's all."

"Wow! Did you hear that girls? Bella's got a boyfriend. What's his name? Is he handsome? Did he pay for you? How far did you let him go?"

"Sue!" I exclaim. "I only got off with him on Friday. I'm not a floosy."

Sue chuckles and takes a long drag on her cigarette then coughs like an old man. I can't understand why she wastes her money on those horrible things. She says they stop her feeling hungry but I think she's nuts. I know she's read the stories in the papers about doctors linking cigarettes to cancer now, but she says that's tosh because her grandad has been smoking Woodbines since he was twelve and he's still okay.

"Well come on then, spill," Sue says between puffs, determined to get the full story.

"Okay, well, his name's Jake and he's very tall and handsome and he's got a really nice scooter. He asked me out when we were at a dance on Friday and we're going to the pictures on Wednesday."

"Cool, but come on, how far did you go?"

"French kissing, that's all. He didn't try anything else on. We were in The Roxy for heaven's sake."

"But you're seeing him again on Wednesday? It'll be hand under the blouse on the second date."

"No it blumin' won't!"

Sue and some of the other girls who were listening laugh when I say that, but they weren't being mean. It's a 'been there, done that' kind of laugh, which if you translate it into words would say "Oh yeah, it totally will!"

"Come on," a girl called Frances calls out. "It's nearly nine. We'd better move or Eva Braun will be kicking our arses."

At five to nine we all file into the cloakroom to hang our coats up. The cigarette smoke has made my throat dry, so I pop a fruity Polo in my mouth to take the taste away but I can still smell nicotine in my hair. We won't get a drink until ten thirty when the tea lady comes round, and I know I'll be parched by then, which is another reason why I hate inhaling all that smoke. Our lunch break is at twelve thirty but we only get three quarters of an hour to grab something to eat and get some air, which really isn't enough, but there's no point complaining as it would fall on deaf ears.

I get myself comfortable at my allocated desk and plug my headphones into the Dictaphone machine and switch it on. Oh joy! Creepy Hands Carswill and his mumbling voice again, dictating tedious letters about paper suppliers, printing ink and other boring stuff. Just what I (don't) need for a Monday morning.

* * *

After three and a half hours of non-stop typing I need some fresh air and something to give me a lift. I usually go for a walk around the local area on my own as the other girls prefer to sit in a cloud of smoke, but today I'm going to do something different.

I didn't have to spend much money at the weekend as I hadn't needed to buy bus fares or drinks on Friday and I just went round to Alice's on Saturday, so I decide to go to Lyons and treat myself to a cake to have with my sandwich. Lyons Corner House is the nearest shop that sells cakes and sausage rolls and other yummy food, but I don't go in there often because I have to watch my pennies.

There's a long queue in the shop, but this gives me the opportunity to closely examine all the gorgeousness that's neatly arranged behind the glass before I make my choice. I decide on an iced Belgian Bun, which is a large currant bun with a thick layer of white icing and a _glacé_ cherry on top. I love these, even though I usually end up with a sticky face as there's no polite way of eating them. They also remind me of being a kid and fighting with my mother to avoid having my mouth wiped, as I wanted to lick every bit of sugary goodness off my lips before she attacked me with a Kleenex. I'm smiling at the memory as the shop assistant pops my decadent purchase in a paper bag for me and I give her the sixpence.

As I turn away from the counter and make my way towards the door to leave, I notice a good-looking young man staring at me. When our eyes meet for a split second, he quickly turns his head and looks away and I can tell he's embarrassed that I've caught him, as the side of his face is definitely pink. It's also obvious he's only pretending to look at the display of cakes, as his eyes are fixed forward and not scanning the shelves or trying to catch the eye of the shop assistant. I glance at him again as I leave and I definitely don't recognise him. He's very handsome, with lovely thick, dark-auburn hair, and he's smartly dressed, like he's an accountant or something. If I'd seen him before I'm sure I would have remembered him because of his hair colour and his striking facial features. My mum would say he had 'film star good looks' and for once I would agree with her.

I leave the shop and stand on the pavement feeling slightly unnerved by the experience. I've had boys look at me before and I've had the occasional wolf-whistle or a 'toot' from a car horn when I'm walking along the road, but this was different. It was as though he was waiting for me to turn around and check me out for some unknown reason. His eyes were so intense just for the brief second when I caught him looking at me, almost like he was searching for something.

"Maybe he thought he recognised you from behind," I muse, "then looked away when I wasn't who he expected me to be." I nod to myself as this seems to be the most logical explanation. I mean why would a good-looking, well-dressed and obviously professional young guy who's about twenty-five, be looking at someone like me in the first place?

So if that's the case, why do I have the compelling desire to turn around to see whether he's still checking me out? I take a deep breath and quickly spin on my heel.

"Holy Hell. He is."

* * *

 **So, they both work in Fleet Street and Edward has become a stalker! What will his reaction be now he's seen her face. You'll find out in the next chapter**.

FYI

 **Fleet Street** was where all the national newspapers had their offices and printing works before they relocated to Wapping or Canary Wharf, or other parts of London. Fleet Street is located in the oldest part of the City of London, near St Paul's Cathedral. It got its name from the Fleet River, which is an underground stream that feeds into the Thames. Even though the Daily Express building has been totally refurbished after the newspaper moved out, the Art Deco entrance, which is Grade II Listed, is still there, and the building is now inhabited by Goldman Sachs. I've given the building steps BTW, using a bit of artistic licence - I hope you don't mind.

 **Lyons Corner Houses** were a chain of coffee shops scattered mainly around London. I've used a bit more artistic licence here as I'm not sure whether there was one in the City of London, but I've mentioned Lyons to jog the memories of some of my readers who may remember them, as the last one closed in 1977. During the war (I'm not that old by the way), their waitresses were called 'Nippies', and being a 'nippy' was a good job to have.

 **Smoking** back then wasn't the issue it is now. Apparently many doctors were yet to be convinced of the link between cigarettes and cancer or heart disease, and smoking was still seen as being 'cool'.

The **Football Pools** was the only way of winning really big money in Britain before the National Lottery was introduced. You had to pick 8 drawn games to win the jackpot. You could also buy Premium Bonds, but they didn't pay out nearly as much.

The **West End** is the most popular shopping area in London. It takes in Oxford Street, Regent Street (expensive) and Bond Street (very expensive). All the big department stores were on Oxford Street back then.

 **Icing** is called 'frosting' in America. (I didn't know this until I started reading FanFiction - doh!)

 **Donkey's years** is a slang term for 'ages'.

Joan x


	5. Chapter 5

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 4**

 **Edward**

I've worked like a Trojan all morning and used up three Dictaphone tapes already, so Margaret will either be highly delighted that I've tackled so much paperwork, or fuming because I've dumped so much typing on her and Jane in one hit. I don't often do this so I'm hoping she'll forgive me and won't stop making a fuss of me.

I've been concentrating on work to try and take my mind off the brown haired girl, but have to admit I've been checking my watch for the last fifteen minutes, waiting for the hands to creep towards half past twelve when I'm hoping she'll appear outside the Express offices again. I'll try again at one o'clock if that's when her lunch hour starts or half past one and so on. I'm ridiculously intrigued to see whether her face matches my expectations, which is highly unlikely and completely irrelevant. Even if she looks like Audrey Hepburn, which I know she won't because there's only one Audrey, I won't take my fascination with her to the next level because I'm not looking for a girlfriend, or even a replacement for Tanya.

My life's too busy and complicated to think about dates and Valentine's or remembering birthdays and other such frivolous details. At the moment I rely heavily on Margaret to remind me it's my mother's or sister's birthdays, or my parents' anniversary, so bringing a girlfriend into the equation and all the responsibility that goes with being a 'boyfriend' would be too much to take on at the moment, and why should I bother as I'm getting all the sex I need from girls like Tanya?

I mentally slap myself for being so crass as I know I shouldn't think of Tanya in this way, but I'm a guy in his mid-twenties who's making the most of the few years of adulthood when you have no responsibilities other than looking after your own arse. This small window of relative freedom coincides of course with attempting to build a decent career so you can earn enough dough to give yourself the lifestyle you want in the future, _plus_ still making the most of your time off. I seriously plan on being able to relate to my grandchildren hundreds of exciting stories of my decadent youth, including lurid details of the recklessly stupid things I got up to, just like my grandpa did with me.

My fully laid-out life-plan is to wait until I'm in my early thirties to start looking for the perfect wife, who'll provide me with a loving home, two kids and a fat Labrador. Hopefully by then I'll be cured of my speed addiction and will be ready to trade Tara and Sadie in for a boring four-wheeled work horse which will be ideal for trips to the supermarket and family weekends at the seaside. Until then, my one and only love affair is with the two girls who are safely locked in my garage, and that's the way it's going to stay.

Grandpa's watch says its twenty-five past twelve and I'm anxious to get downstairs in order to cure this ridiculous obsession. I know I'll have to have a plausible excuse ready for Jane as to why I'm going out now, because I usually escape at one o'clock to get some fresh air and a decent coffee. She's bound to be nosey and ask why I'm going early so I'll tell her I'm hungry. From this side of the road I should be able to get a good look at the brown haired girl, which hopefully will satisfy my totally inexplicable curiosity, and then I can forget about her.

My backside has just risen off the chair when the phone rings. It's Mr Jenks calling me from his office, asking some inane question about one of my cases. I drop my jacket on the chair and frantically search through the pile of files to find the information he's seeking. I blurt out the answer to his query as I keep one eye trained on the doors across the road while praying Jenks hasn't got any more stupid questions. As I slam the phone down and grab my jacket, the brown haired girl appears in the Express doorway. Annoyingly she's looking downwards as she's fastening the buttons on her raincoat and her beautiful curls are concealing the shape of her face. As she walks down the steps her eyes are still looking downwards, probably to ensure she doesn't fall. Even when she reaches the pavement she doesn't glance up which means I'm unable to see her features.

"Damn it," I exclaim while I'm watching her, knowing I've missed my chance. It takes me less than a millisecond to make the totally irrational decision to follow her, because I know I won't be able to cope with waiting another five hours or so until she leaves this evening to discover what she looks like. I can only see the side of her head as she hesitates on the pavement, then she turns right and starts walking away from the building towards Fetter Lane. Her pace is quite fast and I start to panic I'm going to lose sight of her. I shuffle my jacket on as I'm heading for the stairs then sprint down two at a time and head to the front door at speed before Jane has a chance to stop me and start up a conversation.

I can just see her ahead of me on the opposite side of the road so I trot along the pavement while glancing behind me every few steps waiting for a gap in the traffic so I can cross safely. Her glorious chestnut curls are wafting in the light breeze as if to taunt me and I nearly get run over when I misjudge the speed of a car that accelerates just as I step off the pavement. With each step my curiosity increases but I'm still expecting to be disappointed when I actually see the face of the person responsible for my compulsive behaviour.

She turns the corner and disappears from view so I step out into the road, this time in desperation, forcing a black cab to screech to a halt. My journey to the opposite pavement is accompanied by a tirade of abusive language from the cabbie and his irate passenger who's probably just been catapulted off his seat, so I half turn and yell 'sorry' as I break into a run.

I follow her route around the junction of Fleet Street and Fetter Lane but she's completely vanished by now and I want to scream with rage.

"Damn it," I exclaim for the second time in five minutes and I grab a handful of my hair in frustration. As I stand on the windy corner, looking desperately around me for any clues as to where she may have gone, I spot a steady stream of people coming and going through Lyons doorway and I wonder whether she's slipped in there to buy some lunch.

I jog up to the shop and peer through the tinted glass to see whether I can spot her anywhere, but my view is obscured by a screen of tall plants put there to give customers sitting down to eat some privacy. I contemplate whether to hang around outside to see whether she comes out, but decide to bite the bullet and go in. If I spot her, I'll get in the queue on the pretext of buying something and hopefully I'll see her face when she leaves. If she's not there, I'll just hang about outside the Express until she returns from her break.

Taking a deep breath to calm myself before I go in, I pull the heavy glass door open to allow a lady to come through first then slip into the crowded shop. I quickly scan the queue of people nearest to the counter and spot her immediately. She's the next to be served and I watch her point to a cake behind the glass then reach into her purse and pull out a single coin. The shop assistant pops whatever she's bought into a paper bag and hands it over in exchange for her money.

I'm expecting her to drop her purchase into her handbag, but instead she immediately turns around with the paper bag in her hand and after walking a few steps towards the door, for some inexplicable reason she raises her head and looks straight at me. Our eyes lock and I instantly know I've been caught staring at her.

For the few brief seconds I've snatched before she spots me gawking at her, I'm surprised to discover this girl is nothing like I imagined. Her face is completely devoid of make-up, which is unlike the vast majority of young girls nowadays who layer it on with a trowel. Her complexion is pale, translucent and flawless, like a porcelain doll. Her eyes are…soulful. Brown and deep, like a cup of warm Colombian coffee. Her lips are pink and soft and there's a hint of a smile on them, as though she's thinking of something that makes her happy. I can't help it but I start to smile in return, then I realise that I'm staring at her like some sort of demented loon and quickly avert my eyes.

I turn towards the counter and start pretending to inspect the display of sugary delights in front of me, hoping she's not in the process of asking the staff to call a policeman. I'm trying to act nonchalant as she walks behind me and I hear her opening and closing the door so I presume she's outside by now.

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest and my collar is feeling tight around my neck. Worst of all, I'm positive I'm blushing, which is something I never do. Is it because I'm embarrassed at being caught staring, or has this girl's face affected me so much that I'm having an adrenalin rush? I can't tell which it is, but what I'm feeling right now is something I've never experienced while standing on solid ground. I've only ever felt like this when I'm astride a speeding bike risking my life, so what the hell's happening to me?

I realise I'm holding my breath, so I slowly exhale and attempt to relax while trying to decide whether to buy something now I'm here. I can't think clearly as I'm also concentrating on recalling the girl's face before it disappears from my memory completely. Without considering the consequences, I turn towards the doorway in the hope she's still in sight.

I can see her through the clear glass door, standing on the pavement with her back towards me, her glorious hair blowing softly in the breeze which is always present on this particular corner because of the influence of the surrounding high buildings. As my eyes linger on her petite frame, she suddenly spins around so she's facing me and our eyes meet for the second time, and this time she holds my gaze for what seems like an age but is actually only a few seconds. Her eyes narrow as though she's questioning my motives, then she turns around again and walks away in the direction of the Express.

I'm rooted to the spot, as though I've been turned to stone like one of Medusa's victims. But my brown-haired girl isn't a monster; she's a goddess in flat shoes and a light grey poplin raincoat.

"Whad'ya want darlin'."

The rasping voice of the Cockney shop assistant jerks me back to reality and I tear my eyes away from the now deserted pavement.

"Ummm, three Danish pastries and a coffee to take away please," I mumble in a panicked response and luckily point to the pastries with almond flakes scattered over the top which I know are Margaret's favourite. I'll treat her and Jane to one each as I'll be dumping a hell of a lot of typing on them later, so maybe this peace offering will soften the blow.

I make my way out of the crowded shop but linger on the pavement, feeling unable to move any further as my heart is still pounding and my head is in a whirl. I'm presuming the girl is back in her office by now so there's no point trying to follow her, so I wander along Fleet Street as slowly as possible because I'm not in the right frame of mind to return to my desk just yet.

I think about what just occurred and try to make sense of it. I've never stalked a girl before; not even at university where I was surrounded by young, attractive females who'd just escaped their all-girl schools, or their parents' protective custody, or both. An added advantage for me then was the girls had their own accommodation which was very convenient, even though in the majority of Halls men weren't allowed in the girl's rooms. I got very adept at climbing drainpipes during those years.

Girls stalked _me_ then, and I took advantage of that fact many many times, meaning I've had more than my fair share of sexual experiences than the average almost-twenty-five-year-old. I'm not sure whether to be proud or ashamed of that fact, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy myself. Since leaving university, my conquests have been limited to girls like Tanya, a couple of one-night-stands after parties plus a couple of holiday romances, but none of the girls who have gone before has ever pulled at my heart strings or made me contemplate being faithful to only one person.

A few hours ago this girl didn't exist in my world, but now I've seen her face I've got a horrible feeling she'll become a distraction in my life, especially as there's a good chance I'll see her every day. I must admit this is a totally new experience for me as I'd never felt any compunction to find out more about a girl before. I also have to admit to myself that I've managed to get to the age of almost twenty-five without ever being _really_ attracted to anyone, which is actually quite tragic.

I think about her face and what I'd learned in the few seconds I was able to look at her. She was definitely much prettier than I imagined. She had a natural, youthful beauty, but I'd guess this was because she was no older than eighteen, or nineteen at the most, so not really a woman in the legal sense of the word. Her clothes were cheap and ordinary, but I don't judge people on what they wear as you can only buy what you can afford. Not only that, at eighteen, nineteen, whatever she is, she wouldn't have developed her own sense of style, which is why teenage girls generally all look the same nowadays.

But she had a freshness to her, like she was just waking up from a long sleep and was only now discovering what the world had to offer her, and she seemed happy. The lightness of her gait and the smile on her lips was enchanting, and deep down I admit I'm longing to learn her story; to find out why she exudes this aura of … I don't know … how do you describe what she has? Confidence mixed with happiness? It's something I can't put it into words.

It was also obvious she was brave; feisty even. There aren't many young girls who would front out a stalker, which is probably what she thinks I am. When she narrowed her eyes at me, it was if she was trying to read my mind; to work out what my motive was for staring at her. I know if I ever get the chance to talk to her she would be my equal, and wouldn't be intimated by a smart suit and a cultured accent.

My last thought made me smile as I wandered across Fleet Street, without causing an accident this time. "I wonder whether she has a Cockney accent." I muse.

I'd never heard real Cockney actually being spoken before until I started working in the City, and was quite shocked when confronted with what could only be described as a foreign language. I'd heard it in films like The Lavender Hill Mob, but nothing prepared you for the real thing, which was when I was in an East End pub or the markets. Somehow I couldn't imagine this girl talking like that, but maybe this was just wishful thinking on my part.

I reach the door to my office and glance across the road to the Express building in the hope she's standing outside, but she isn't there. I hesitate before touching the door handle as I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention and I instinctively know my eyes _have_ seen something but my brain hasn't made sense of what it is yet. I look back at the building and realise I can see the shape of a girl standing in the foyer. Even though her face is distorted by the glass, I know it's her. She looks directly at me for three, or maybe four seconds, then she turns her back and disappears.

"Holy Crap!"

I stumble through the door and lean against Jane's desk while I regain my composure.

"Are you alright, Mr. Cullen?" Jane asks, sounding genuinely concerned. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Margaret immediately comes out of her office, takes one look at me and starts heading for the kitchen.

"I'll make you a cup of tea, dear. You might be coming down with 'flu or something."

"I'm fine," I reassure them as I pull myself together. "Don't bother about the tea, Margaret. I've got coffee from Lyons and bought myself a cake, and guess what, I've bought you both one too."

When I get back to my desk, I sink my teeth into the pastry hoping an injection of sugar into my bloodstream will stop the shakes. After eating every crumb and drinking my excellent coffee, I contemplate what happened to me in the last half hour and laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Then I tell myself to grow up and stop acting like a love-sick teenager with a crush.

My common sense, (yes, I still do have some of that), kicks in and I attempt to convince myself there's no way I'm going to involve myself with a teenager who works in a typing pool. Whether she has the face of an angel or not this is a non-starter. I'll have to satisfy myself by looking and not touching, like she probably does with Paul McCartney or George Harrison, or some other long-haired pop star. I've got a good imagination, so when I'm next shagging Tanya I can imagine it's the brown haired, brown eyed girl enjoying my bountiful gifts. I lecture myself forcefully, "this girl is out of bounds and that's that, so get on with your work, Cullen!"

I reluctantly grab the top folder off my rapidly reducing pile and open it. I need to distract myself, but the words on the page meld into an image of her face, so after banging my forehead several times on the desk, I have to admit to myself …,

"Cullen, you're screwed!"

Which is another one of Emmett's Americanisms I've adopted.

* * *

 **Bella**

Other than curiosity, I don't know what prompts me to wait in the foyer to see whether he walks past my building, but I've a strange feeling I'll see him again. I decide to give him five minutes to show, then I'll have to give up as my Belgian bun is calling me from its bag and my tummy is rumbling in anticipation. I'm just about to move away when he appears on the opposite side of the street, so I watch while he walks slowly along the pavement.

It's obvious he's deep in thought as several people have to walk out of his way to avoid bumping into him. From my hidden vantage point I have the opportunity to take a good look at him and I like what I see. I would guess he's at least six feet tall, very slim with broad shoulders, and even from behind tinted glass it's easy to appreciate what a striking looking fellow he is, and my fascination with him increases ten-fold.

He stops walking abruptly, as though he's only just realised where he is, which is directly in line from where I'm hiding in the foyer. He glances over to my building and immediately looks away again and I wonder whether he was looking to see if I was there. This would mean he knows where I work and I don't know whether to be flattered or worried about this fact.

I realise I'm holding my breath as I wait to see what he does next but I don't have to wait long. He turns towards the building he's stopped in front of and puts his hand on the door handle, so I'm guessing this is where he works. While I'm wondering why I haven't noticed him before, as I'm sure I would remember a guy as handsome as this, he turns around again and stares straight at me.

It's obvious he can see me and I feel like a tiny mouse caught in the hypnotic gaze of a python. My heart is pounding in my chest as he holds me in his spell, but the magic is broken when I hear Sue calling my name from the cloakroom and I'm instantly propelled back into the real world. I quickly turn away and head towards where I know Sue will be waiting for me but my legs feel like jelly, just like they do when I get off Jake's scooter.

I follow Sue into the small area set aside for us to have our lunches. We're not allowed to eat at our desks other than small sweets like Polos or Spangles, so we either eat in here or find a wall or a bench outside when the weather's okay. I delve into my bag and pull out the cheese and tomato sandwich mum made for me this morning and start munching it while mentally going over what just happened in the last twenty minutes.

"You're quiet," Sue comments as she finishes her sandwich and starts searching in her handbag for her cigarettes. Fortunately she's not allowed to smoke in here so at least my lunch is safe from being polluted, however I can still smell nicotine in my hair which is disgusting. I know she'll have to go outside to have her fag so I'll eat my bun then. I'm not being greedy, but I can guarantee she'll want a bite of it if I get it out now and I'm not giving up a crumb. I can't usually afford to treat myself and I want to make the most of every calorie-filled morsel.

"I'll tell you more about it later, Sue," I reply, "but I've just had a weird encounter with a young man who was staring at me. I think he works in one of the buildings across the street."

Sue obviously isn't desperate for her cigarette as she looks intrigued.

"Did he chat you up?"

"No, nothing like that. He was just staring at me, like I'd got two heads or something."

"Was he good looking?" (This guy might be a serial killer, but if he's handsome, that's okay in Sue's book).

"Yes … that was my first impression, definitely. I only looked at him for a few seconds though. He was tall, mid-twenties I'd guess. Smartly dressed in a dark suit and he had unusual dark auburn hair. I'm sure I've never seen him before, but I don't really notice men in business suits as they're not in my league."

Sue tut tutted. "You're always putting yourself down, Bella. You're destined for great things you know; you just can't see it."

I laugh at that comment because it's ridiculous, even though I'd heard it before.

"That's what my friend Alice says. I'm sure she's got gypsy blood in her as she's always right in her predictions. But I think she's got this one wrong."

"No, Bella. _You're_ wrong. Instead of believing you're destined for nothing better than a typing pool, or a secretary's job at best, you've got to think higher. You're bright and beautiful, like the hymn."

I can't help laughing at that. _All Things Bright and Beautiful_ was my favourite hymn at primary school. I hadn't heard it in years. I shake my head in denial.

"Sue, I know you're being nice, but I'm just an ordinary girl from Poplar who didn't go to Grammar School. I haven't got any qualifications other than five CSE's and certificates for fifty words a minute typing and a hundred for shorthand. My dad's a dock worker and my mum's a dinner lady and I live in a tiny council house that backs onto a railway. I haven't got two pennies to rub together so the chances of me doing 'great things' is pretty slim. I'm a realist, Sue, not a dreamer."

"There's no harm in dreaming, Bella."

"There is, if there's no likelihood your dreams are going to come true."

"Well, at least you've got a boyfriend."

"Yep, but I'm sure that's only temporary."

"Jesus! There you go again – Miss Unbelievably-Negative-Pants. Right, enough of this self-flagellation, I'm going out for a fag. Coming?"

I shake my head and finish my sandwich quickly then slowly relish every ounce of sugary sweetness, piece by unbelievably exquisite piece, leaving the thickest lump of icing with the cherry on top for my final mouthful so I can carry on tasting it during the afternoon. Feeling slightly guilty now, I scoot off to the cloakroom to wash my hands and wipe my face, removing every shred of evidence of my greediness from my co-workers.

As I check myself in the mirror, I take a look at my reflection and wonder why Sue and Alice think I'm 'something special.' The only Bella I can see is a girl who's already resigned herself to having a mediocre life and not aspiring to anything other than ending up in the same situation as her parents. East End girls like me, without the benefit of connections or qualifications, very rarely pull themselves out of the quagmire they were born into, unless they have a talent for acting, singing or dancing, which is certainly not me. If I don't expect too much from life, I'll never be disappointed. I just aspire to be happy.

But I know I'm luckier than most. I have parents who love me, even though they don't say it very often. I'm not deformed or covered in acne, and even I'll admit I've got nice hair and eyes. I've got a permanent job, which even though it's crushingly boring is still a blessing. Most importantly, (well actually having supportive parents is my best bit of luck); the next most important 'blessing' is having a great circle of girlfriends, Alice being the best. I put our friendship above my relationship with Jake or any other future boyfriend, as she's a permanent fixture in my life which hopefully will endure until we're both old and grey.

As I'm walking back to my desk I think about the young man who stared at me so intently. He had lovely eyes too. They were kind, thoughtful eyes, even though he was obviously startled when I looked at him as they widened for a second before he looked away. I'm sure he was blushing when I walked behind him which is quite funny when you think about it. I'm glad I looked back though and waited for him in the foyer, as _he_ now knows that _I_ know he was checking me out which is even more hilarious.

I sit down in my chair, shove my handbag under the desk and my Polos next to my Remington typewriter, and get myself ready for a long afternoon of boredom. One day I hope, this filthy-rich newspaper will supply their typing pool with electric typewriters. Only the editorial staff's personal secretaries have them at the moment so we have to ruin our nails bashing away on machines that belong in a museum. As I switch on the Dictaphone ready for the afternoon session, while wondering what earth-shattering letters or memos need putting on paper this time, I think about my Monday Man and decide to keep an eye on the door across the street from now on, just in case he appears there again.

I feel a bit guilty because I should be mooning over Jake, which I was just over four hours ago on the bus to work. Okay, I'm flattered that a guy in a business suit has taken an interest in me, even though it's probably a fleeting interest as I'm sure he's not actually interested in _talking_ to me. He's definitely quite a bit older than me as well, and because I don't wear make-up, he'll probably think I'm just a kid compared to him, so I can't imagine he would consider me as a prospective girlfriend. Anyway, he's probably really posh and snooty, so not my type at all. I can't imagine a guy like him getting on with my dad either - Jesus!

I plug my headphones into the Dictaphone machine and listen to the crackling noise you hear before the voice starts speaking. I've been doing this job for nearly two years and it doesn't get any more interesting. I know I'm lucky to have it and it's well-paid as far as typing jobs go, but I'm sure there's more to life than this. At least Easter is coming. Only three and a half days until Thursday, and then it's four days off in a row – whoopee for me!

Jake and the other scooter boys mentioned something about going to the coast on Bank Holiday Monday – just for the day of course. I'd love to go, but it's a long way and dad would go ape if he found out. I haven't told him yet that I'm going out with Jake, which is something I'm definitely not looking forward to doing. I'll have to tell him tonight or tomorrow as Jake will be banging on my door at seven on Wednesday night, then dad will no doubt hear and see his scooter, which is not going to go down too well either. God! I can't wait until I'm twenty-one.

I dismiss Monday Man from my thoughts and make the conscious decision to concentrate on my burgeoning relationship with Jake. He's from the East End, like me. He's working class, like me. He's a Mod, like me. I shouldn't be looking any higher.

But I know damn well that when I leave this building at half past five, my eyes will be straying over to the doors and windows across the street, and I wonder whether my Monday Man will be looking out of any of them.

I really hope he is.

* * *

 **So, Edward has been knocked for six (cricket expression) by Bella, but will he try and fight it because he's not ready for a relationship? Bella's intrigued why he's interested in her, especially as she considers that girls like her wouldn't be on someone like Edward's radar. The bank holiday is approaching, so will she meet Eddie the Rocker and fall for him as well? Decisions decisions!**

FYI

 **Cockney** is both a dialect spoken by working class Londoners in the East End, and also to describe a person who was born within the sound of Bow Bells (the Church of St Mary-le-Bow in Cheapside). Dick Van Dyke's hideous attempt at a Cockney accent in Mary Poppins is unfortunately the most famous one on film, and Michael Caine didn't do much better in Alfie or The Italian Job. Audrey Hepburn tried to do it in My Fair Lady, but her father, played by Stanley Holloway, was a lot more convincing. You can still hear it spoken in London, but 'Cockney Rhyming Slang' is now only spoken for the tourists.

 **Typing** was hell then. I learned on Remingtons and Olympias and ended up with no fingernails. I used my first electric typewriter in 1971; It was an IBM Golf Ball - very swish. They also belong in a museum now of course.

 **Grammar Schools** were part of the education system in the '60's. (We still have them in a few counties in England). Children took an exam called the Eleven Plus in the last year of primary school (4-11 years). If you passed you went to Grammar School, if you failed you went to a Secondary Modern School, where you were only allowed to take CSE's (Certificates of Secondary Education). These held you back in the work place because most employers asked for Grammar School GCE's (General Certificates of Education), for the better jobs, i.e. those that had prospects. GCE's were required before you did 'A' Levels, which you needed to get to go to university, so the chances of going to Uni were practically zero if you failed an exam at eleven years old. Secondary Modern Schools also taught vocational subjects like Shorthand and Typing for the girls and Woodwork for the boys. Most counties only have Comprehensive (High) Schools now, where ability on entry isn't a factor to get a place.

Do let me know if you need anything else explaining.

Joan x


	6. Chapter 6

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 5**

Thursday 26th March 1964

 **Edward**

Thursday at last, but I've definitely got the 'Friday feeling' because of the impending four-day weekend which I'm really looking forward to. I'm desperate to get away from the City and burn some rubber on the country roads and I genuinely don't care where we go. The weather forecast is fair to good at the moment, so I'm hopeful Emmett and the rest of the Ace pack are still up for escaping the nose to tail traffic and the dirt and grime of London at some point over the weekend. If not I'll go on my own. I also need to get over my obsession with the girl which is beginning to get out of hand, so four days with the boys and a bit of lovin' from Tanya should definitely do the trick.

It's almost five o'clock and I'm watching the comings and goings from the Express building as usual, wondering whether the girl will be let out early because it's Easter. Jenks has been round with chocolate Eggs for all of us and a bunch of daffodils as well for Margaret and Jane. He's actually quite a thoughtful old chap when I think about it. I don't know much about him because he keeps himself to himself, but he's a good boss who knows how to get the best from his staff without putting too much pressure on them.

I've seen my brown-haired, brown-eyed girl several times since our encounter on Monday, but only from this high vantage point. I switch my light off when she's due to appear on the steps and stand way back from the window so she can't see me. I know this is pathetic, but I don't want her to presume that what happened on Monday is significant until I've sorted out whether I want to take this encounter further, even though my common sense is telling me to just let it go. I've noticed that when she's on the steps she looks over to my building occasionally, but it's always just a quick glance rather than a searching stare, so I'm not even sure whether she's still curious about why I was gawping at her in Lyons.

I'm beginning to get to know her habits by now and can pick up little snippets of information from her actions. She obviously doesn't like cigarettes as she tries to stand away from anyone who's smoking. This is a definite plus for me as I can't stand the things either. Tanya smokes like a chimney, but she's also addicted to chocolate, which helps mask the taste of nicotine on her lips. When she pops a piece of chocolate in her mouth and winks at me, she's in effect giving me a signal that she's up for it. I don't hesitate helping her work off the calories she's consumed on my behalf, because I'm nice like that.

My girl seems to be very popular with her workmates as she's always smiling or laughing and quite often she's the centre of attention. She's definitely the youngest in the group as the others all look as though they're in the early twenties, with one or two even older, but I may be wrong. I've noticed that girls who smoke age much quicker; I think it dries their skin and takes away the youthful glow which my girl has in abundance.

I realise I'm referring to her as 'my girl' now, which is a bit worrying, almost like I've staked a claim on her. I try to convince myself that in my mind I'm just singling her out from the other Express girls, but who am I kidding?

If it's not raining at lunchtime she goes out for a walk on her own. I find this odd as most of the other girls seem to go off together. Maybe it's her aversion to cigarettes which makes her do this? Maybe she just likes time to think? I don't know. But I'm not tempted to follow her to see where she goes. She still fascinates me and I like looking at her, and I've started having the occasional fantasy about her, but I'm absolutely determined not to get involved with her or anyone else for that matter.

When I don't have to work the next day I would usually go down to the Ace after work, but even though tomorrow is a day off I've decided not to go as I've got boring stuff to do at home, like shopping and clothes washing, plus dealing with the tedious things in life like paying gas bills. I've also got to pluck up the courage to phone my parents to give them an excuse why I'm not turning up for the customary family lunch on Easter Sunday.

I know mum is going to be livid, but the thought of sitting around a dinner table with a load of nosey relatives appals me, as they'll have no qualms about implying that I don't have a _proper_ job, or they'll enquire why I'm not married yet. I have to go to my parents the following weekend anyway as it's their thirtieth wedding anniversary, so hopefully they won't be too miffed that I'm ducking out of the customary Beef Wellington and Black Forest Gateau, which I can guarantee will be on the menu on Sunday.

I told Emmett I'd turn up at his place on Good Friday sometime during the day. I know the plan is for the pack to have a drive out on Saturday or Sunday or both, depending on the weather, then we'll head to the coast on Bank Holiday Monday. I don't know which resort the Rockers have decided to invade this weekend, however the word on the grapevine is that a pile of Mods are going to either Southend or Clacton so maybe we'll head there for a bit of fun. I'll take Tara this time as she needs a long run and also because Sadie burns a hell of a lot more fuel in comparison, and my finances are at bit tragic this month.

Winding-up Mods is a favourite pastime for most of the guys in the Rocker fraternity and I don't mind getting involved in some of the shenanigans. When we're out as a pack, there's nothing better than roaring up behind a group of scooters and frightening the daylights out of the idiots who ride them.

We know we look menacing on our huge bikes. Rockers, as a species, are a different type of human from Mods, who are invariably either short or skinny or both, which is why they hide their lack of physique under voluminous Parka's. Rockers however are real men in comparison. They're generally hard-faced, muscular types, with an excess of testosterone and an attitude to match. When we surround the Mods, we hurl abuse at these weedy individuals for a while, and then roar away at a hundred miles an hour, leaving them in a cloud of dust. Their feeble scooters can hardly reach seventy going downhill, so there's no contest if they attempt to go after us. However I can't see the point of picking an actual fight with these sharp-suited, Parka-wearing morons, even though some need putting in their place as they ride around on those pathetic looking machines absurdly believing they're the cool ones.

As I chuckle at that particular thought, through my open window I can hear the distinctive sound of a scooter rattling its way along Fleet Street. It stops in front of the Express building and I can't help bursting out laughing when I see it. It's got about six extra headlights bolted to the front panel, the bodywork is covered in go-faster stickers and there are rabbits-feet, flags and other items dangling off an aerial at the back. In my opinion it looks like it belongs in a circus rather than on a public road.

The black-haired moron who owns this piece of junk is probably waiting for one of the Express employees, so I watch with interest to see if it's one of my girl's workmates who has won the jackpot and will be going home on that ridiculous excuse for a vehicle. I don't have to wait long as the doors open and the girls I now recognise as 'my girl's' colleagues are spilling out onto the steps. They've been let go half an hour earlier than usual and, like me, they all seem to have been given an Easter Egg.

As soon as the girls notice the Mod on the scooter they all come to a screeching halt on the steps. It's obvious they haven't seen this guy before because they don't approach him, but they're all giggling like crazy as they've probably guessed who he is. My girl is at the back of the group as usual and hasn't seen the Mod as she's trying to fit her Egg into her bag, but when she looks up, the girls have already split into two groups leaving her standing in the middle of them in full view of the moron. I shoot out of my chair as the penny drops. I can see her blushing from up here and I watch in horror as she walks towards this Parka-cladded idiot and gives him a kiss – **on the fucking mouth!**

I'm standing at the window watching as she hitches her tight little skirt up, (God help me), then she slides onto the scooter ready to go, **without a fucking helmet!** I have to stop myself from banging on the window and yelling at her; instead I practically ram my fist in my mouth in anger and punch the window ledge with my other fist making the picture frames containing my qualifications jump away from the surface. Then, would you believe it, a fucking double-decker bus comes along on my side of the road and completely blocks my view.

My window is open slightly so I can hear the Mod revving his pitiful excuse for an engine, which compared to Tara or Sadie's sounds like a lawnmower. I'm willing the bus to shift so I can see what's going on and thankfully it's only there for about ten seconds before it moves away.

I'm watching the girl as she wriggles on the seat to get comfortable and then she slides one arm around the moron's waist. As he kicks the stand, she looks behind her to check the traffic then her gaze travels up to my window and I see her eyes widen with shock. I'm not quick enough to jump out of the way in time and I totally know by her expression that she can see me staring at her again, and I'm also sure she can tell by my expression that I'm furious.

Within seconds they're out of sight, heading at speed towards the East End, and I'm seriously, pissed. Firstly, because the irresponsible bastard hasn't got her a crash helmet to wear so he's risking her life. Secondly, I'm mad because I stupidly never considered she'd have a boyfriend, **and a fucking Mod boyfriend which is even worse.** Lastly, she's probably convinced now that I'm a stalker, which to be honest is a fairly accurate description of me.

I stumble back to my desk and collapse in my chair. I'm so shaken I'm trembling, and I'm angry, and I'm dejected, and most of all I feel completely and utterly foolish. Because I'm also a jerk, (which is another one of Emmett's Americanisms I've picked up), I have a desperate need to destroy something, so I unleash my fury on the Easter Egg which is directly in the line of fire. I smash it to a pulp in one punch, box and all. Happy fucking Easter to me!

I fling myself around in my chair, spinning it several times while I sulk like a two-year old. I know I said I didn't want her, but I didn't expect anyone else to want her either, which is ridiculous considering how beautiful she is. Now she's roared off into the sunset with that chancer and the thought of him having his hands on her makes me retch. At least he's got a motorcycle licence as there was no 'L' plate on his scooter, so he's not a completely irresponsible bastard, but I'm still boiling, as my four-day-old fantasy of introducing my brown-haired, brown-eyed virgin to the delights of my manhood has just flown out the fucking window.

I look at the decimated Easter Egg and notice something about it which almost makes me laugh, which is the last thing I feel like doing at the moment. Hidden amongst the smashed cardboard, the shiny outer wrapping paper and the fragments of chocolate, is a small plastic bag containing about thirty chocolate buttons still totally intact. A memory of something I did when I was about ten years old comes back to me and I can't help but chuckle.

I was so mean to my sister. We were both given Chocolate Button Easter Eggs by our Aunt Charlotte on Good Friday. While my sister was out shopping with our mother the next day, I managed to take hers out the box without damaging the packaging. After carefully undoing the silver wrapping and by using a pen knife with perfect precision, I cracked open the two halves of her egg. After removing the pack of buttons and eating them, I sealed up the egg using my saliva and repackaged the egg in the box so brilliantly that it looked completely untouched.

It gets worse.

After we opened the eggs together on Easter Sunday morning, my sister sobbed because she didn't have any buttons. So when I was sure I had an audience, I gallantly offered to share mine, for which I was showered with praise by various grandparents and other relatives and given a sly half-crown by my dad for being so generous and making him proud in front of the family.

I was a 'jerk', even at that age.

That memory lightens my mood somewhat but I look in sorrow at the flattened Easter Egg, feeling just as guilty for ruining Jenks's gift as I do now about my sister's buttons. I gather all the pieces up and tip them into a large envelope and place the evidence of my ungratefulness in my briefcase to take home. After tidying my desk and locking the filing cabinets, I head downstairs and say 'Have a nice Easter' to Jane and Margaret then leave for the four day weekend. As I step out onto the pavement and look over to the Express building, the now almost dormant sense of rage stirs in me again as I imagine what the girl and the Mod could be up to by now, but as she's out of sight I'll have to put her out of mind, at least until next Tuesday.

As I stride towards Blackfriars Station and another torturous journey home, I say to myself, "Edward, she's too young, too innocent _and_ she's undoubtedly a Mod. Not only that, you're a Cambridge graduate from a well-to-do family. Can you imagine the reaction if you brought someone like her home to meet the parents? Now get real and banish her from your mind."

As I admonish myself for having the same attitude to women as Mr Darcy, I say the first six words and last nine words of that sentence over and over again, but as the tube train duly arrives and I miraculously find a seat, I lean over my knees and put my head in my hands as I inevitably give in to what I've been fighting against.

"Edward Anthony Masen-Cullen; who on earth do you think you're kidding?"

* * *

 **Bella**

Eva Braun has said we can leave half hour early today which is great. She's also given us all a small Easter Egg each and told us that the boss wanted her to pass on his thanks for getting five day's work done in four days. I think that's the first time we've ever been thanked for doing anything while I've been here, but it cheered us all up, not that we needed much cheering up anyway, with a four-day weekend and then another four-day week ahead.

Eva has been quite friendly to me this week and has given me some of the more interesting tapes to type. I don't know what I've done to deserve this, but I'm not going to argue as what I've been typing has been very interesting. I know I'm a quick and accurate typist and there's a secretary's job coming up soon I'd like to be considered for, so maybe she's trying me out on the sly. Then I tell myself not to be so stupid as I'm one of the youngest girls in the typing pool and the others are much more likely to be candidates than me. It'll be a long time before my name gets to the top of the promotion list.

This morning I had to give Sue and some of the other girls a full report on my Wednesday night date with Jake. The first thing I told them was that he didn't attempt to stick his hand up my blouse. However I omitted to tell them that I'd purposely worn my one and only dress for the date, and there was no way he would attempt sticking his hand under the hem to get that far up. We did do a lot of passionate kissing in the back row and he tried to give me a love bite, but I stopped him because I know my mum would kill me if she saw it. I didn't see much of the film as I had my head buried in his armpit for most of the time. It was a horror film; something about Flesh Eaters. Jake thought it was hilarious but every time I looked up someone was being murdered.

Dad's still fuming about Jake having a scooter, and when he came to pick me up he went out to speak to him alone after making me wait indoors, (how embarrassing). He's insisted on Jake getting me a helmet within the week and wouldn't let me go out until Jake agreed. I can see his point and Jake and I discussed it while the adverts were on at the cinema. One of his friends has a spare girl-sized helmet so he's going to ask to borrow it until he can afford to buy me a new one. I told dad this when I got home and he harrumphed, but I know he's worried about me getting injured which is totally understandable.

Jake also mentioned the Easter Monday trip to the coast which I'm really excited about. I don't know where we're going yet, but I hope it's somewhere on the south coast and it's warm and sunny. I could do with some colour on my cheeks. The weather forecast isn't looking hopeful for Monday, but you can't ever rely on their predictions sadly.

I've only seen the sea about ten times in my life, even though we live really close to it. Jake reckons there'll be about twenty scooters from The Roxy going down, so including passengers, there'll be about thirty of us in all. He said lots of other Mods will be there too and if the weather is good we'll have a party on the beach. Alice is going with Jaz, and Eric and Paul are bringing their girls as well so it should be a lot of fun.

The Roxy is closed tomorrow night because it's Good Friday. Apparently no-one's allowed to have fun on the day Jesus died so I'm going to save my pennies and stay in with mum and watch the TV. Saturday nights the club is just for old people who like ballroom dancing so no disco dancing for me this weekend. I'm going to Alice's for the day on Saturday. She's clearing her wardrobe out again and she's giving me first dibs on the stuff she's going to chuck out. She's lucky having well-off parents and I'm fortunate to have a friend who's so generous as I know she could sell some of her clothes at the market. She's also promised to give me another make-up lesson, plus a manicure and pedicure. She uses me as a guinea pig to practice some of the techniques she's learned in college which means I can get pampered for free, which is great.

At just before five, Eva Braun says we can pack up and leave so there's a mad-dash for the cloakroom then an orderly queue to get our pay envelopes. I'm one of the last out the door as usual and I'm also trying to conceal my Easter Egg in my handbag. If Mike spots it, I know he'll want me to share, and that's not happening. As I'm walking down the steps I can hear the other girls giggling for some reason so I look up to see what's so funny. Sitting astride his scooter and as usual looking very cocky, is Jake, and he has the biggest grin on his face because he knows he's getting admiring glances from the other girls.

It's obvious I'm blushing like crazy as I can feel myself burning up, but boy oh boy do I feel completely and utterly smug because Jake has come in to the City to meet me after work, thus proving to the doubters I actually _do_ have a boyfriend, and a thoughtful, caring boyfriend at that. _And_ I totally know the girls will be so envious when I slide onto the scooter and put my arms around my good-looking chap and zoom off into the distance, leaving them to rely on London Transport to get home. Hooray for me!

I sashay over to Jake and give him a lingering kiss on the lips then whisper "thank you" in his ear, but at the same time I'm curious to know how he found out we were leaving early. I have to hitch up my skirt before I can clamber onto the back of the scooter, but I casually do it as though I've done this a hundred times before. I slide one arm around his waist but leave the other free so I can nonchalantly wave to the girls as we move off. Okay, I'm a total show-off; it'll be straight around his waist though as soon as we pick up speed as I still don't have the courage to hold on with just my knees.

I overhear Sue whispering "lucky bitch" to one of the other girls and I give her a grin so she knows I've heard her. She smiles back, then blows me a kiss. "Be careful, Bella," she shouts as Jake revs the engine to the max then waits for a gap in the traffic.

There's a bus on the opposite side of the road where I spot some young kids on the top deck pointing to our scooter as Jake has lots of extra lights bolted to the front to make it look different. I smile at the children as the bus moves away and as I start to look around, I notice a man standing at an upstairs window in the building opposite. He's looking straight at me and for some reason he looks very angry. Maybe it's because Jake's still revving the engine and it may have disturbed his concentration?

And then I suddenly realise it's _him;_ my Monday Man. He's staring at me again but now he looks totally different from the man I caught in a smile in Lyons. For a fraction of a second our eyes meet like before, but this time it's as though I can read his mind. He's definitely angry, but there's something else there. Is it anxiety, or jealousy, or both? I hear Jake calling out, "hang on," then the scooter lurches forward and before I know it we're off, tearing through the streets of the City at God knows how many miles an hour. I totally know Jake's showing off in front of the girls because as soon as we're out of sight he slows down to a normal speed and carefully weaves his way through the traffic, and I feel confident enough to loosen my tight grip on him.

"Enjoy that?" he asks.

"Brilliant," I respond, even though I was terrified for about twenty seconds.

I should be enjoying the ride through the City of London but all I can think about is my Monday Man staring at me through the window and the connection we had in that fleeting glance. I'll admit I've thought about our first encounter all week and my eyes have wandered over to his side of the road whenever I'm outside the office, but it's genuinely only curiosity on my part. I just need to know the story about why he looked at me so intently in Lyons.

About ten minutes later we pull up outside my house and I stagger off the bike and shuffle my skirt down to an acceptable length. Jake flicks the stand and gets off as well then puts his arms around me for a hug.

"So, were you pleased I picked you up from work?" he asks as he kisses me on top of my head.

"Yes, that was really nice of you. Thanks Jake."

"How pleased?"

"Hmmm, I've said 'thanks' twice, isn't that enough?"

"Well, we'll have to see," Jake responds and gives me a wink then a kiss on the lips this time. I'm a bit concerned about his attitude but I brush it off for the moment as he's kissing me again – this time with tongues. I'm just hoping and praying no-one is looking out our front window.

When I've recovered from the kiss, I ask him the question which has been bothering me since I first saw him waiting at the bottom of the steps."

"Jake, how did you know we were being let out early? None of us knew until after lunch. Did you just turn up on the off-chance?"

Jake gives me a knowing smirk and kisses me on the lips again before answering.

"You know you call your horrible, annoying, miserable supervisor, Eva Braun?"

"Yeah," I reply as a cold feeling covers my heart.

"I hate to have to tell you this, but she's my mum!"

"Oh … My … God!"

* * *

After leaving a hysterically laughing Jake on the doorstep, (why the hell didn't I connect Mrs Black and Jake Black together), I go indoors to find my dad and Mike having another flaming argument about politics. Dad is a staunch Labour supporter and a Trades Union Shop Steward. He's definitely not a Communist though as he abhors the oppression in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union, but he's definitely more left-wing than the average Labour voter.

My brother on the other hand is a Liberal, which despite its name is a political party that sits happily between left-wing Labour and right-wing Conservative. It doesn't have a huge number of MP's at the moment, but occasionally when a government doesn't have a big majority in the House of Commons, it can hold the balance of power. The country is due to have an election in October and there's a good chance that the Labour party might win for the first time since I was a kid, so dad is in his element. Mike on the other hand thinks Labour will allow the Unions to take control of the country. As they're unelected, he's not happy as he believes in total Democracy.

I'm not at all interested in politics at the moment, even though I recognise how important it is. I won't be able to vote for another two and a bit years when I'm twenty-one, so there's no point in me taking sides just yet. However I seem to be sympathising with Mike when he argues with dad, but I don't add anything to their conversations. I just get out the way and hide in the kitchen with mum, or stay put in my bedroom with the radio turned up full-blast.

Mike is a junior reporter on our local paper. Despite being assured by his teachers he had no chance of becoming a journalist, after he left school and while he was working at our local supermarket, he bombarded several local newspapers with articles he'd written on current affairs. In the end, (probably to shut him up), one of them offered him a job. A year later, after he'd waited until I'd finished my exams at the same useless school and I was on the point of leaving, he had great pleasure going back in, showing the Headteacher his journalism credentials, and then telling him what he thought of him. Mike's a brilliant writer and he hopes one day to work for one of the national newspapers or get into TV journalism. He's a good looking guy as well so he'll be easy on the eye, but it's one of the toughest professions to break in to and you have to be pretty exceptional to get a look-in; either that or find the scoop of the century and get yourself known that way.

I hope he does well as he certainly puts the hours in. Lately he seems to be coming and going at all times of the day and night and he's very furtive about what he does or where he's been. He's also studying at night school, as our secondary modern didn't have a sixth form, so he's taking some A levels there. He says he'd like to go to University to get a degree but this would be a real challenge for someone with our background as the interview process usually wheedles out the working classes and gives most of the places to privately educated or Grammar school kids. It's not fair, but unfortunately that's the way it is.

I wander into the kitchen to help mum with dinner. The Archers hasn't started yet so I tell her about Jake picking me up from work and the other girls being envious that I've got a good-looking boyfriend with a scooter. Mum laughs and says what Jake did is today's equivalent of a Knight in Shining Armour whisking me off on a White Charger. I giggle at her comment because I suppose it is.

I'm tempted to ask for mum's opinion about my Monday Man, but decide to keep him to myself for a while. Mum is a good sounding-board and I know I can ask her anything. She gave me the 'sex talk' when I was about fifteen, (I didn't have the heart to tell her I already knew), but she also told me to never be scared of telling her anything, even if I accidentally get pregnant. She's a great mum and I'm determined not to let her down like that.

As mum seems to have dinner under control, I wander upstairs and lie down on my bed for a few moments. I can still hear dad and Mike going at it hammer and tongs so I turn my transistor up really loud until I can't hear what they're saying.

I should be day-dreaming about Jake and his kisses, but instead I think about my Monday Man and his eyes, which even from a distance took my breath away. I don't know if it's because he's a grown man rather than a teenage boy, but I have the feeling that if we ever got together he would have complete control over me and I would do anything for him. I can't understand why I'm feeling like this as I don't know him or haven't even spoken to him, but I just know I'd be putty in his hands if he ever touched me.

There was definitely a connection there, as if he could read my mind and I could read his. He was angry with me for some reason but until I talk to him, or should I say 'if' I ever talk to him, I won't know why this is.

However, he must know I've seen into a part of his soul this time.

I wonder what the rest of his soul looks like?

* * *

 **Wouldn't we like to know? Edward's really feeling stupid that he didn't consider Bella would have a boyfriend so that's really thrown a spanner in the works.**

 **Next chapter it's the Easter weekend and Bella and Edward are both heading off to the seaside (separately), but not to paddle in the water. However you all know damn well that their worlds are going to collide again (chapter after next).**

 **If you want to read more about Mods & Rockers, and what happened on Easter Monday in 1964, (for real), there is a lot of information on the internet about the fights that took place in the coastal resorts over that weekend.**

FYI

A **half crown** was two shillings and six pence - today's equivalent of, (hang on I'm working this out), twelve and a half new pence. In 1964 you could get a lot of stuff if you were a kid with a half crown. Five sixpenny bars of Cadbury's chocolate, or 60 Flying Saucers, 120 Chews, four and a bit Mars Bars (they were sevenpence each - most other bars of chocolate were sixpence), ten Sherbet Dabs. Dinner money at school was five shillings (two half crowns). I've still got some of the old money at home and the half crown was a weighty coin. You really felt you had some money when you had one of those.

The Conservative **(Tory)** party had been in control of the country for nearly 13 years in 1964 but working class (blue-collar) voters were not happy as the country's prosperity wasn't coming their way. There were also a lot of scandalous stories involving Tory politicians (the Profumo affair in 1961) and the fairly new and very upper-class Prime Minister was very unpopular, plus he seemed always the worse for wear with drink (allegedly). The 'establishment' was starting to panic that the Labour party would win the election in October, so discrediting them and the Unions became a top priority.

In the UK the **Easter** bank holiday weekend was/still is Good Friday, then the normal weekend, then bank holiday Monday. Back then May Day wasn't a bank holiday, so the next day off was Whitsun (Whit Monday) which was near the end of May.

 **I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Bella will have an encounter with Eddie the Rocker soon and then she'll meet Edward the Lawyer properly. Now which one will she like best?**

 **Joan x**


	7. Chapter 7

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 6**

Good Friday – 27th March 1964

 **Edward**

Good Friday is a weird name for the day when the son of God is crucified. Bad Friday would sound a whole lot better, especially to kids who are learning the Gospel and get totally confused as they take words literally. As I try and lift my head off the pillow I painfully acknowledge today is definitely a _Bad_ Good Friday, but to be honest it's my own irresponsibly stupid fault.

I've woken up with an 'almighty' hangover (pun intended). A young guy called Alec who's just moved into the mews, banged on my door last night and introduced himself. He's a merchant banker _and_ a bike enthusiast. He spotted me wheeling Sadie out last Friday and told me with no shame that he "nearly had a stiffy" when he saw her, which is an odd thing to say to someone you've only just met. I must admit I laughed because that's exactly how I reacted when I first laid eyes on her.

Guessing Alec was hankering after being introduced to the lovely Sadie, I grabbed the keys to the stable doors and ushered him in to the hallowed ground then waited for the reaction.

"Oh My Holy God!" he exclaimed when he saw not only Sadie in there but Tara as well. He was definitely not expecting to discover that Sadie had a companion and he actually bent double with his hands on his knees as he took in what he was seeing.

I asked him if he wanted to be left alone with some lube and a box of Kleenex. When he got the joke, he nearly pissed himself laughing and I had a good chuckle as well. I think I'm going to get on with this guy.

After he'd recovered and had taken a good look at the bikes, we had a chat about Sadie's and Tara's performance, how fast I'd ridden them and where, and then he invited me back to his place for a drink. As I had nothing to do, apart from all the things I said I was going to do when I left work, I accepted the invitation gratefully, thus putting off calling my mother for another twelve hours. Yep! I admit it. I'm a coward where my mother's concerned.

I discovered that not only was Alec a bike enthusiast, (he owns a BSA Bantam, which is currently residing in his parents' garage), he's also a Malt Whiskey aficionado and the rest, as you say, is history. We stayed up until two in the morning talking mainly about bikes and cars while sampling various brands of liquid heaven selected from his impressive collection. He certainly does know his stuff about whiskey _and_ bikes and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

I told Alec about the Ace Café and he said he'd heard of it but had never visited, so he's obviously not a closet Rocker like me. I also inadvertently told him I was a lawyer, but fortunately didn't divulge too much other information about myself, even though I was three sheets to the wind by the time I left. As I mentioned before, I like to keep my personal life private; even Emmett doesn't know about my background or what I do for a living and I'm going to keep it that way.

I know I have to call my mother but I put it off until after I've had breakfast. Speaking to Esme Masen-Cullen on an empty stomach is not advisable under any circumstances, but especially when you know she's going to be furious. As I devour my scrambled eggs on toast, I consider the various excuses I've thought up, even though I know not even a summons from the Archbishop of Canterbury asking me to deliver the sermon at Canterbury Cathedral for him, would be a sufficient excuse for me not attending the Masen-Cullen Easter Weekend bash.

I can't put it off any longer so I take a deep breath and dial the house phone as opposed to my father's phone in his study. My hand is actually shaking as the line connects and I hear the ring-ring about six times before someone picks up.

"Cullen residence," mother says in her haughty telephone voice.

"Hello Mum,"

"Edward, darling. I'm glad you rang. I was going to call you shortly about the weekend. Are you coming down tonight or tomorrow?"

"Err, that's why I'm calling, Mum. One of my friends is in a bad way. He had a nasty car accident a week ago. He's been discharged from hospital earlier than anticipated, probably because it's Easter, and he can't walk or drive. His wife is just about to give birth so I said I'd stay with them until her parents fly back from the Bahamas on Monday when they'll take over. I hope you don't mind?"

I can hear my mother's teeth grinding from this end of the phone so I pull the receiver away from my ear in anticipation of the explosion.

"Edward! Isn't there _anyone_ else who could help out? Surely your friend's wife has got a girlfriend or two who could be there?"

I was thinking quickly but fortunately I'd already anticipated a number of 'Surely's' and this was one of them.

"They're both Scottish, Mum. All their other close friends are already away for Easter and his parents live near Edinburgh, plus I get on really well with their two-year old. Anyway, I've already said its okay so I can't let them down now. I hope you don't mind; I'll definitely be with you next weekend.

"Well, I'm _very_ disappointed, Edward. I suppose there's nothing I can say to change your mind. Your father will be upset too."

"No he won't. He doesn't care two hoots if I'm there at Easter. As long as you give him the crusty end of the Beef Wellington and two helpings of gateau, he'll be happy."

I can hear my mother 'huffing' on the other end of the phone. I thought my last comment would soften her mood, but apparently not. She's still fuming.

"Well, I'll expect you on _Friday_ _night_ next week, no excuses. There's lots to do in preparation for the party and I need you and your sister's help. As I said, _no_ _excuses_."

"Okay, Mum. I'll see you on Friday night."

I put the phone down quickly before she asks me for my 'friend's' telephone number. She'll think of this in a few minutes after she's calmed down. I bet she'll try calling me back but I won't pick up as I don't have a friend who could even pretend to be Scottish.

I clear up the breakfast plates and put out the rubbish as I don't plan being home until Monday evening and don't want to return to a stinky kitchen. I go upstairs to get dressed, leaving Edward Cullen behind for the rest of the four-day weekend.

Now feeling mightily calmer as the mum-ordeal is over, I stroll into the guest bedroom where Eddie Masen is waiting for me, and pull out a fairly new, extra-thick, long-sleeved white t-shirt this time plus my black leather biking trousers to keep my legs warm on the long journey to the coast. The trousers fit me exceedingly well; almost like a second skin. They make the cheeks of my arse look really tight, which they still are with-or-without leather. I tuck the t-shirt in so it's smooth over my pecs then vainly admire myself in the mirror. I'm guessing there can't be many girls out there who could resist any man looking like I do and I wonder whether 'my girl' would fall into that category. She's a Mod, so would she consider this look attractive? Or has she been so conditioned by her culture that she considers any man wearing leather to be revolting?

I stick to the same Norton jacket as before as the good-quality leather is very dense and completely wind-proof. I'm also taking a warm scarf and thicker gloves as well as the temperature drops like a stone at night, especially near the sea.

When I'm dressed, I pick out a spare pair of plain white shorts and extra socks to take with me. I can cope with wearing the same underwear for two days, but certainly not for four. Then I mentally go through what else I need for the weekend. "Money, comb, throw-away razor, Johnnies… I think that's it." I keep a toothbrush and deodorant at Emmett's along with a couple of spare t-shirts. I might be a Rocker, but I don't stink like some of them.

There's one guy who comes into the Ace called James, who smells so bad I hold my breath when I walk past him. He stinks of a combination of body odour, cigarettes and shit and I'd guess he hasn't changed his underwear in months. It's probably so covered in crap it needs surgically removing with a hammer and chisel by now. His long, straggly hair is rank; I would guess it was originally fair, but it's so full of grease he could open a chip shop if he squeezed it out. He pulls it into a pony tail and holds it together with a rubber band which is not a good look on anyone. His fingernails are long with filth embedded in them and I doubt whether he ever brushes his teeth as they're brown around the gums and yellow at the tips. Basically, he's a walking compost heap.

Most of the other guys are scruffy and smell of oil but are generally hygienic. Emmett is the complete opposite of James and is clean to the point of being obsessive. A guy in the Ace actually accused Emmett of being a faggot to his face because his hands were always spotless. He's lucky Emmett's a pacifist; he would've ended up on the other side of the Ace if he'd said that to me, not that I've got anything against homosexuals. Emmett just laughed out loud in response and called out to the guys hanging around the Café.

"Y'all here's seen the size of my dick?" (Everyone nodded in agreement – Emmett's dick is massive).

"I'm guessin' it wouldn't fit in anybody's ass, but I'll give this son-of-a-bitch's a go if you bend him over for me!"

With that several of the boys jumped out of their chairs and grabbed the mouthy guy, then attempted to pull his jeans down so that Emmett could pretend to do the honours. A fight ensued when the guy's mates tried to defend him and it all spilled outside. A few noses got broken and there was blood everywhere but it was all over in five minutes. The mouthy guy left with a couple of his mates and they haven't been back to the Ace since. Emmett of course stayed in the café as he doesn't believe in using violence to solve a problem, and to be honest I've never seen him getting angry either, apart from when Kennedy got shot back in November, after which he disappeared for nearly three weeks. I wonder whether there's anything else that could light his fuse. Whatever it is, I hope I'm on the right side of him when it happens because he's a big guy and I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of his fist.

I grab the keys off the hook and stick with my decision to take Tara. It's also a practical decision as well as financial, because Tara is a younger bike and therefore more reliable for long journeys. Also, she isn't as valuable as Sadie and therefore less likely to be stolen if we have to stay over somewhere where there's nowhere safe to park. I apologise to Sadie for leaving her behind and wheel Tara out into the daylight for the first time in nearly five weeks.

As I sit astride her I notice how different she feels to Sadie; she's much lighter and somehow more refined. Tara is an Aristocrat whereas Sadie is a Brothel Madam.

The roads are quiet due to it being Good Friday, which means very few people are at work and all the shops and entertainment venues are closed so I get to Emmett's in record time. I take Tara up to ninety on one stretch of road but only for about a mile or so, but this gives me the adrenalin rush I badly needed after a frustrating week at work. It also completely clears my nasty hangover.

Emmett is in the garage when I arrive, still tinkering with his Bonneville which he has recently named 'Bonnie', as he likes the way I give my bikes girl's names. Bonnie also happens to be the name of one of my parents' Labradors, but I don't mention it as this could lead to questions about my family.

Emmett's garage is more like a Den, in that he has a battered leather sofa and an ancient rocking chair in one corner and a rusty old (working) fridge full of beer in the other. Against the side walls are racks piled with tools and other bike-related bits and bobs he's collected over the last couple of years, and whatever wall space is left is covered with pictures of bikes and women in bikinis. (Emmett is definitely not a homosexual).

I wheel Tara onto the drive and shout "Hello," through the front door to Carol, who I hope will bring me out a cup of tea as usual. I should really have bought her an Easter Egg or flowers as she's always feeding me, but I would've looked a right tit hurtling down the road with a bunch of tulips sticking out of my jacket.

"So where are we going on Monday," I ask Emmett who's polishing the chrome on his bike.

"Clacton, apparently," he responds as he tips some cleaner onto a rag.

"Great," I reply sarcastically, "Bloody Essex, I hate that coast, its freezing."

"Agreed, but that's where everyone's heading. Do you want to not bother?"

"Nah, I'll go. Tara could do with a long run, but I'm not hanging about if it's not worth it. Are the Mods going to be there?"

"Not sure. Word is they're spreading themselves around this Easter. Some are heading to Hastings and some to Brighton apparently. I don't mind winding them up, Ed, but I'm not looking for any action, you know that?"

"I know, Em. You're a lover not a hater."

Emmett chuckled under his breath as he tipped some more cleaner onto the rag.

"Why aren't you going home for Easter, Eddie? You could've ridden over on Monday morning straight from your parent's place. Have you fallen out with them or something?"

I don't really talk about my family to Emmett. He knows my parents are still around and I've got a sister, but that's about all. If he knew who my parents were he'd have a coronary.

"Nah" I reply casually. "I've got to go there next weekend for a family occasion. The thought of being with them two weekends in a row is too much, so I've given my mum a lame excuse why I couldn't be there."

Emmett shook his head and didn't comment. I know he really misses his parents and my indifference towards mine must be strange to him. I'm also guessing he's quite religious, as he occasionally disappears for a while on Sunday mornings and I've a sneaking suspicion he goes to church. He probably went this morning as well. Easter was probably a big deal in the McCarty household so he's feeling the 'separation with no end-date' more keenly at the moment. It's obviously something he doesn't want to talk about, which is fine by me as I keep my own secrets from him.

Carol appears then with two steaming mugs of tea and a whole packet of chocolate biscuits for us to share.

"I presume you're staying over for the weekend," she says to me.

"If that's okay?" I ask politely.

"Course it is, just don't wake me up on Monday morning. I'm going to a party on Sunday night and I'm planning to have a lie-in. So where are you boys off to?"

"Clacton," we both say in unison.

"Well, be careful, I don't want to see your pretty faces on the six o'clock news."

As I shove a whole biscuit in my mouth, I have to agree being arrested would not be a good move as having a criminal record wouldn't go down too well with Mr Jenks, or more importantly the Bar Association when I eventually apply to be a barrister.

"You won't," Emmett reassures her for both of us before he shoves _two_ chocolate biscuits in his mouth at the same time.

* * *

 **Bella**

 **Easter Monday morning – 30th March 1964**

"So where are we going, Jake?"

"Clacton, on the East coast. Loads of Mods are going down so it should be a good laugh. If the weather's bad we may end up in Southend which is only about ten miles away. There's definitely more stuff to do in Southend like fairground rides and indoor arcades, but we've got a feeling there'll be police there trying to keep us out."

"Police!" I exclaim, and I know I sound quite shocked. "Why should the police be there?"

"There's been some trouble with Mods in the past, especially if any Rockers turn up. There may be fights but don't worry, I'll get you out of there if I think there's going to be trouble."

"I don't like Rockers; they're dirty and disgusting. I bet they all carry knives and stuff."

"Yeah, they all do. Wankers!"

I'd heard the word 'wankers' before, but have never been brave enough to ask what it means, so I just giggle knowingly so that Jake doesn't think I'm completely clueless. I'll ask Alice when I see her; she'll know.

Jake continues. "We're meeting up at The Roxy and we're all going down together. Jaz says he knows the way so he'll lead this time."

Jake was checking me over as he talked and did the top button of my coat up for me.

"Are you sure you'll be warm enough?"

"Yes Jake, don't fuss; you sound like my mum."

"Sorry, I just don't want you to be cold. Have you told your dad you've got a helmet now?"

"Yes, but he's still not happy about me being on a scooter. I haven't told them where we're going today by the way, so don't drop me in it."

"Would they stop you?"

"Absolutely. There's no way they'd let me go all that way, especially on the back of a scooter. I told dad we're just hanging around London, so please don't have an accident as they'll never trust me again."

"Do you still listen to what your parents' say?" Jake asks incredulously.

"Of course I do, well …. most of the time," I add. "They only want me to be safe, and dad keeps reminding me that while I'm living under his roof then I've got to be respectful of his rules. I don't mind that."

"Does the same apply to Mike?"

"Yes, of course it does. Look, Jake, I'm not saying I don't break the rules occasionally. If there isn't a risk my dad is going to find out what I'm up to then it's okay, within reason."

"Is that why you don't drink or smoke?"

"No, that's my choice. I can't see the point of wasting money on cigarettes and alcohol."

Jake scratches his head and looks at me quizzically.

"What else don't you do?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, you know what I'm talking about."

"No, I don't. Anyway, enough of this chit-chat. We're going to be late."

I knew damn well what he was talking about but I wasn't ready for that sort of discussion. In fact I couldn't imagine myself ever being ready for that sort of discussion. I'd already made up my mind when we started dating there was no chance of me risking getting pregnant, whether he uses protection or not. I might consider having sex before marriage if I got engaged, but definitely not before that. Alice says, "You have to try before you buy!" But having sex with every guy I go out with _before_ I find Mr Right is definitely not on the cards for me.

Jake hands me the crash helmet, which is much heavier than I anticipated and I resign myself to having an almighty headache after wearing it for a couple of hours. Nevertheless, I wriggle my head into it and Jake adjusts the straps for me so it doesn't wobble about. When it's on, it doesn't feel too uncomfortable or heavy, but my hearing is severely restricted so I'm not going to be able to hear Jake at all while we're travelling.

We zoom off in the direction of The Roxy and straight away I can't help shivering. The weather is overcast and threatening rain; typical English Bank Holiday weather of course. I'm hoping it'll be better by the coast because it won't be much fun being on the beach if it's wet and freezing.

We arrive at The Roxy at the same time as Jaz and Alice, and join the huddle of Mods and scooters parked up outside. There's lots of laughing and revving of engines as we wait for the latecomers to turn up and as each one arrives they're greeted with a cheer. Alice is like a bottle of fizzy pop she's so excited and she runs over to me and gives me a hug.

"This is brill, isn't it?" she gushes. "Jaz and I are going out front so we'll be the leaders of the pack for a change. Are you excited, Bella?"

"Yes," I respond as I genuinely am, but I'm not as animated as Alice who's practically frothing at the mouth. It's an adventure though, as it's the first time our pack has gone further than the East side of London as a group. We don't really know what to expect when we get to Clacton, but there may be hundreds of other Mods there which will be amazing.

The last few members of the pack roar up and there's lots of shuffling about while they get in position. We're behind Jaz and Alice. Eric and Paul and their girlfriends follow us, then there's Tyler, who's from the West Indies and his girlfriend, Angela. Tyler's family came over to London about five years ago and the boys know him from school. He's madly into music and is planning to open a record shop in Brixton to sell Ska, Rock Steady and Blue Beat imports because he believes this type of music is going to be the next big thing. He brought some samples down to The Roxy and they're fantastic so I think he's on to something there.

There're lots of West Indian boys and girls coming to the club now which is great, but Tyler is the only one with a scooter. Angela's parents don't know she's going out with a black guy, which is sad but quite normal for the East End as there's still a lot of prejudice and suspicion about immigrants. I don't know what my parents would say if I brought one of Tyler's friends home. I hope they'd be okay about it but somehow I doubt it.

Behind Tyler are all the other guys with either another guy or a girlfriend on the pillion, or no passenger if they haven't got their bike licence yet. I'm a bit annoyed to see a girl called Jessica in the pack. She's managed to cadge a lift on Riley's scooter even though she's not going out with him. She's a fully paid up member of the bitch club and I know she's after Jake as several girls have told me this. I've seen her making moony-eyes at him and she does it in front of me as if I'm not there – the witch! I'm positive Jake isn't interested, but if there's a 'free meal' on offer, (as my mother refers to girls who give it up at the drop of a hat), then there's not many blokes who'll turn down a quick snack.

When everyone is ready, Jaz moves off and I can hear Alice squealing with excitement, even through my crash helmet. I'll admit I'm feeling more than a little bit cold now, even though I'm wearing two long-sleeved t-shirts, a sweater, a coat, and jeans with thick long socks underneath. I've got a scarf and gloves on as well, but it's only March 30th, so it's still not Spring yet and the morning air is freezing. I put my arms around Jake and he feels quite warm, so I huddle up really close to him and pretend he's a hot water bottle.

The pack is soon roaring through the back streets of Poplar and Stratford and probably waking up anyone who's attempting to have a lie-in after eating too much chocolate and other things on Easter Sunday. Jake reckons it'll take us about two hours to get to Clacton, not counting for any breaks for refuelling, hot drinks or the loo, so we should arrive there at about midday. We're heading for the A12, which is the quickest route into that part of Essex, and Jaz is confident he won't get us lost, but Alice has a road map in her bag just in case.

I glance behind me as we round a bend and the sight and sound of about twenty scooters travelling at once thrills me to the core. I can now understand the phenomenon of gang culture, in that the sense of belonging through being in a such large group gives you a feeling of security. In other words there's 'safety in numbers' I suppose, but I'm sure the Roxy Mods won't be looking for trouble today. Well, I _hope_ the Roxy Mods won't be looking for trouble today as I wouldn't have been so eager to come if Jake had mentioned the police before. I shiver when I imagine my dad having to come and bail me out of Clacton jail and the shame afterwards. I'd be grounded for the rest of my life and Jake would probably be missing all his teeth when dad had finished with him. I would then lose my job because Eva Braun, I mean, Mrs Black, would get me the sack.

"Jesus! Why did I agree to come on this trip?"

I cling on a bit tighter to Jake as Jaz has accelerated and we're probably doing over fifty miles an hour by now, which is faster than I've ever been before. The easterly wind is whipping my face and my cheeks and fingers feel numb with cold. My knees are also freezing as my socks only come up to just over my calves and my coat doesn't protect the top half of my legs very well. I want to try and pull Jake's parka over my thighs, but I'm too frightened to let go at the moment. Hopefully he'll stop at some traffic lights soon and I'll be able to cover myself up a bit better.

About half an hour later we pull in at a petrol station as Jaz needs to top up. I'm so cold I think I'm frozen to the seat. Jake can tell I'm in a bit of a state and calls Alice over to help. I manage to slide off the scooter and when I'm confident I can stand on my own, Alice points to a café on the opposite side of the road and insists I get some tea down me before we get back on our way. Most of the other girls come with us as they are equally frozen but Jessica stays behind with Riley, which I'm pleased about as I don't particularly want to have a conversation with her.

After drinking tea with lots of sugar I feel a lot better, and when we leave the café the sun has made an appearance and the temperature has risen slightly which hopefully means the weather will continue to improve. Jake gives me a hug before I get back on the scooter then takes off his own scarf and wraps it around the outside of my helmet and across my nose and mouth so only my eyes are visible. When I get back on the scooter I pull his parka over my knees and sit as close as possible to him. If there was room for me _under_ his parka I would squeeze my way in there, but unfortunately this isn't the case.

I wrap my arms around Jake again as we set off towards Clacton; the intention being not to stop any more until we get to Chelmsford, which is about half an hour away from our destination. I'm so much warmer now I feel I can relax and enjoy the journey for the first time. The roads are in good condition so the ride is fairly smooth and Jake is confidently steering the scooter to make the ride as comfortable as possible. Occasionally he only has one hand on the handlebars which bothers me a bit, but the scooter is very stable so I stop worrying unnecessarily. I can see him gesticulating at Eric and Paul behind us and wonder whether they have some sort of sign language, then of course I realise I can't hear if he's talking to them.

Every now and again Jake puts his free hand over my hands and gives them a rub and a squeeze, which is nice. I think he really does care about me as he seems very thoughtful. I mean he gave up his scarf to keep me warm which was very gallant. I'm sure mum would be impressed.

I'm gazing at the passing landscapes and completely lost in my own thoughts when I feel Jake lifting my right hand away from his body. In one swift movement he forces it downwards towards the scooter's seat and holds it there. I'm wondering why he's doing this when he manoeuvers my hand onto his crotch. I can feel the outline of his penis which is hard and then he starts making me massage it which I really don't want to do. Worst of all, I can tell by the fact that his shoulders are shaking that he's laughing. I try and wriggle my hand free but he's stronger than me and I don't want to fight him because he may lose control of the scooter and crash into one of the other guys and then we'd end up in a ditch or worse.

I can feel myself burning up with embarrassment because I've never seen or touched an adult male's privates before. Mike started covering himself up when he was about eight or nine, so even though I know what's in a boy's pants because I've seen pictures as well, I'd never seen a fully grown one with my own eyes. It feels odd, and to be honest not as big as I'd imagined it to be, but I'm mortified that Jake is doing this, especially as what we're doing would be in full view of Eric and Paul if they came alongside us.

Eventually Jake lets go and I slowly move my hand back to where it was originally. My mind is in a turmoil as I haven't got a clue how I'm going to deal with this situation when I get off the bike, and I'm really upset that Jake thought it was funny. I need to talk to Alice when we stop; she'll know what to do and what I should say to Jake but I'll need to get her away from Jaz.

After about another half hour I spot the signs for Chelmsford and can just hear Jaz shouting that he's looking for somewhere to stop. Ahead of us is a petrol station and Jaz indicates we're going to pull in there. As we come to a halt I spot it has a ladies cloakroom at the side of the shop, so I whisper to Jake that I'm desperate for the loo. I slide off the bike and head in the direction of the shop but as I'm passing Alice I grab her arm.

"Alice," I hiss. "Come with me, NOW!"

Alice doesn't argue as she instinctively realises I'm not giving her an option here and she nods her head furiously.

"Me too!" she responds convincingly as though I've told her I need to pee and she slides away from Jaz and follows me into the Ladies.

"What's up?" she asks as I push her through the door and throw my back against it to make sure no-one tries to get in. I know I don't have time to procrastinate about what happened so I just go for it.

"Jake got hold of my hand and put it on his thingy while he was driving. I don't know what to do, Alice."

Alice's mouth forms into an 'O' shape and then she starts laughing.

"Did you wank him on the scooter?"

"What?"

"You know, give him a bit of friction."

"Oh Jesus, I don't know what that means. Can you explain?"

Alice's eyes roll up to heaven but she doesn't laugh at me again. She can tell I'm upset and confused so she gives me a hug.

"This is all new to you, isn't it?"

I nod my head in agreement. There's no point being embarrassed with Alice about my lack of knowledge about boys and what they expect from their girlfriends because I need some guidance urgently.

"I'm totally inexperienced as far as boys are concerned, Alice. I don't even know what you mean by 'wank'. I've never touched a man before and wouldn't know what to do, even if I wanted to do it, which I don't."

"Ah!" Alice exclaims. "Okay, I'll explain in words of one syllable. I'll give you a quick sex-education lesson but it won't be what your mum told you."

Alice opens her mouth to start explaining when there's a bang on the door.

"Hurry up in there, I'm pissing myself."

"That sounds like Jessica," I whisper.

"Too bad," Alice responds loudly. "Should've been quicker; you'll have to wait your turn."

I snigger while Alice makes humming noises just to annoy the bitch outside, then she lowers her voice to a whisper.

"Okay Bella, this is what you need to know. Wanking is a rude word for masturbation. It's a teenage boys' favourite pastime, second only to football. They get off by rubbing their dicks up and down until they ejaculate and they like it even better when they get their girlfriends to do it for them. I won't overload you with the other things they like doing, but Jake is obviously hoping you'll give him a wank at some point. I take it you're not too enthusiastic about this?"

"No, I'm not," I respond, sounding horrified. "Have you done it with Jaz?"

"No, not yet, but I probably will soon. It keeps the boys happy, Bella, and it's a lot safer than full sex where you risk getting pregnant."

"Oh, Jesus!" I say. "I'm really not ready for this, Alice."

"I think you and I need to talk about boys' needs, Bella. Sooner rather than later, eh?"

"Please. But what do I say to Jake now?"

Alice puts her finger on her lips and looks skyward as if she's deep in thought.

"Just explain to him that in your opinion he's being a bit forward as you haven't been dating long and you don't appreciate him doing this sort of thing in public. Make him realise you're embarrassed and hurt he did that, and you'd hoped he would treat you like a lady and not like an old slapper. He probably doesn't realise how you feel, but you need to be totally honest with him."

"You're right as usual, Alice. Thanks. If he thinks I'm the type of girl who'll do that straightaway, then there's no point me being his girlfriend is there? I need to be truthful about this."

Alice gives me a hug and a kiss then we open the door to find Jessica with her legs crossed outside.

"Took your fucking time," she spits and gives me a filthy look.

I give her a forced smile in return. "If I'd known it was you, Jessica, I wouldn't have hurried."

"Bitch," she eloquently retorts.

"Takes one to know one," Alice snaps and pulls me away before I say any more.

Alice take my arm and walks with me back to where the scooters are parked. Jake and Jaz are deep in conversation with the other boys and it's obvious something has just happened as there are a lot of raised voices.

"What's going on?" I ask Tyler, who's sitting on his scooter with Angela.

"About thirty Rockers have just shot past us, probably heading for Clacton or Southend. The boys are deciding whether to keep going or change direction and head to another resort."

"Do you think there'll be trouble then?"

"I doubt it. If they'd wanted trouble, they would've come after us here. There were more of them than us so they could've given us a pasting it they'd wanted to."

I don't like the sound of this and hope Jake will decide to go somewhere else, or just turn around and go home. I don't have to wait long before the boys all break away and walk towards their respective scooters and start them up. Jake comes up to me and hands me my crash helmet.

"Are we still going to Clacton?" I ask as he helps me with the straps.

"Yes, but don't worry; the boys don't think there'll be trouble. We'll just go in and have a ride around and if it looks okay we'll stay. If not, we'll move on to Southend or Frinton. I'm not going to take any chances, Bella."

"Thanks," I reply, even though I'm still really worried sick. The thought of thirty Rockers waiting for us with those horrible flick-knives is making me nervous.

As I climb on the back of Jake's scooter, the sound of another wave of motorbikes coming towards us fills the air and at least thirty more Rockers whiz past and I can hear obscenities being shouted at us from some of the riders. I really am starting to worry now because this day is not turning out as I imagined.

"Are you okay?" he asks before he gives me a quick kiss on the lips.

"Not really, Jake. To tell you the truth I'm frightened. I don't like the look of those guys and you can't guarantee what we're walking into. What if there are more of them in Clacton? It'll be horrible."

"We'll be fine, Bella. I told you, if there's any trouble I'll make sure we stay well out of the way. Don't worry."

"Okay, but we need to talk about what you did with my hand as well. I'm a bit shocked you did that when you were in control of the scooter and also anyone could've seen us. I'm a bit upset to be honest that you thought I'd be cool about it."

Jake's eyes widen and he gives me a look, but it isn't a concerned or an apologetic look, it's like he's trying to work me out.

"Okay, Bella. We'll talk about it later, but I'm sorry if I embarrassed you. Am I forgiven?"

I cuddle up to him and kiss him on the cheek.

"Of course, Jake. Let's forget about it and concentrate on today and staying safe. We can talk about it later."

Jake grins and climbs onto the scooter and I snuggle in behind him. Jaz revs his engine hard to give the signal for everyone to get ready to go, but before anyone has a chance to move, an almighty roar can be heard coming from behind us and everyone turns to look where it's coming from. I start to freak, imagining another wave of Rockers descending on us, but I needn't have panicked.

Coming towards us are scores and scores of scooters filling the road as far as the eye can see. As they thunder past the petrol station, the Parka-clad riders and their passengers are cheering and waving at us while indicating that we should follow them. Jaz doesn't hesitate. We slip in behind them and are soon absorbed amongst the Mod Army that's heading, en masse, towards Clacton and the sea. Whatever is going to happen there, I feel safer because we're part of this massive group who I'm sure will protect me.

If I thought being in a group of about thirty Mods was exciting, being amongst this enormous multitude of like-minded young people, racing across the countryside towards a place where we're hoping to have a lot of fun, is exhilarating, electrifying and thrilling. I look across at Alice and she's practically screaming with excitement and I know exactly how she's feeling. She reaches across the void between us, holding out her hand, willing me to touch her. I can see her eyes shining and I'm aware this is one of those defining moments we'll remember when we're old and grey and we're reminiscing about our youth. I bravely let go of Jake and fling my arm across the divide and we touch fingertips just for a few seconds, but it's enough to know she's totally thinking the same as me.

As we tear into Clacton heading towards the beach, the local folk and visiting holidaymakers walking along the pavements or emerging from shops, stop what they're doing to watch the invasion of Mods racing through their town. Some people have their mouths open in a combination of shock and surprise at what they are seeing. Some even have their hands clamped over their ears because of the deafening noise that's filling the narrow streets. For a brief moment I feel like a celebrity, and it's absolutely brilliant.

As soon as the sea comes into view, Jake slows right down as the front-runners are pulling in and jumping off their scooters. I presume we've reached our destination and I'm looking forward to getting off and stretching my legs, but before I have a chance to move I hear Alice gasp and I look towards where she's pointing. When I see what's grabbed her attention, I start screaming.

Standing on the beach roughly two hundred yards away and advancing slowly towards us are probably more than a hundred Rockers, and it's plain to see that some are holding weapons or carrying thick chains in their hands. You don't need to be a genius to work out what their intentions are and my heart starts pounding and it's as though I can't breathe. I frantically look around me, hoping to see a police presence or some other responsible adults ready to intervene, but all I can see are mums, dads and grandparents abandoning their deckchairs and picnics, picking up their children and running for their lives.

The vast majority of the Mods, including several from our group, are leaping over the sea wall onto the sand, and I can see many of them have got knives or other weapons like screwdrivers or chisels. Others are collecting rocks to use as missiles and even the deckchairs are being picked up ready to be flung in the path of their enemies. As I watch the battle lines being drawn, it is patently obvious this is going to end very badly and I start to go to pieces.

"Jake," I scream hysterically, "Get me out of here."

* * *

 **Will Jake do as he promised and 'get her out of there', or will he want to run onto the beach with his mates and dive into the battle? A tough decision, but he hasn't got much time to decide what he wants to do. Is Eddie/Edward on the beach with the Rockers and has he spotted Bella in the crowd. You'll find out in the next chapter.**

FYI

 **Clacton** is a resort on the east coast of England and was a popular holiday destination back then. There was a Butlin's holiday camp just outside the main town which attracted young families to the area. Clacton has long, wide beaches, perfect for punch-ups! The fight I'm referring to actually happened on that day and there are plenty of reports of the confrontation on the internet. The distance between Poplar and Clacton is roughly 77 miles and the weather was cool and damp that day.

 **Flick knives** were illegal (still are), but were the favoured weapon of Rockers. You could be jailed for possession, but normally you'd get a fine for a first offence.

As always, thankyou for your reviews.

Next chapter, I **promise** you, Bella will see Eddie in his leathers (fans-self)!

Joan x


	8. Chapter 8

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 7**

Easter Monday, 30th March 1964

 **Edward**

It's about ten in the morning when Emmett and I turn up at the Ace before heading to Clacton. The Café is always busy on Easter Monday, so we mill around the car park with the other Rockers while we debate the different routes we're planning to follow to get to the coast. We estimate it'll take us just over an hour and a half to get there as the holiday getaway doesn't really affect motorbikes; we just zoom past any queues of traffic we meet, feeling wildly superior to the poor souls trapped in vehicles that have a wheel on each corner.

The plan is to set off initially in groups of between eight and ten so as not to draw too much attention to ourselves. Splitting up when we leave and heading in opposite directions is a good way to avoid tipping off the police where we're heading; in other words they can't follow all of us and consequently won't be able to work out which town to warn.

Even though the local police don't like us, they tend not to give us much bother. Apart from speeding, or maybe carrying an offensive weapon or two, we don't actually break any serious laws. We know the neighbours complain about the noise of our bikes in the local roads, so the local Bobbies turn up at the Ace at regular intervals and threaten to arrest us for 'disturbing the peace'. They can then report back to the community that they've sorted the problem (until the next time). They've also threatened to close the Ace several times, but Jack, the owner, slips the Bobbies a tenner every time they come in, so for our totally (dis)honest boys in blue, the Café is a good little earner for them.

Over thirty bikes plus a few pillion passengers are setting off from the Ace today and Emmett and I are in the last group to leave as we have the fastest bikes. I never take anyone on my pillion, so Tanya is on the back of Sam's bike which is okay by me. He's a fast rider but not a nutter like some of them and Tanya is a good passenger in that she knows when to lean with the rider and is not frightened of going low. She's wearing jeans today, which is sensible considering the chilly weather, but she's already warned me that sex is off the cards this weekend as her 'friend' has come visiting. I shouldn't grumble because at least I know that she's definitely not pregnant. I always use protection, but even good quality Johnnies can tear sometimes, so not completely a hundred percent reliable.

We set off just after ten thirty and make good progress travelling across London. By the time we go through the newly opened Dartford Tunnel under the Thames, one of the other groups has caught up with us so now there's about twenty of us in our pack.

When we reach the Essex countryside we open our bikes up and the noise we make as a group is deafening. Luckily the population in this area is sparse, so the only people we're upsetting are the local farmers and their livestock. They gallop for their lives when they hear us approaching (the animals that is, not the farmers), which is actually quite amusing to watch.

For about forty miles we hardly see a soul on the country roads but no-one has spotted any police patrols either. This is a blessing in one respect as we're all speeding, but in another it means the cops are probably somewhere else waiting for us. I have a sneaking suspicion that the local constabulary are already getting into position in or near to the coastal resorts and are more than likely exceedingly pissed off that their Easter leave has been cancelled because of the (correct) assumption that bands of marauding yobbo's, intent on causing mayhem, are descending on their coastline.

I put that thought out of my mind and start to really enjoy the ride. Tara is performing exceedingly well and I must admit she's a pleasure to handle as she's so light and responsive. Sadie, being a much older bike, needs careful nursing as she's not as sophisticated as Tara, but her speed and acceleration makes up for the lack of finesse.

As the miles zip by, I wonder whether the girl is heading to Clacton or another seaside town, or if she's staying in London with the moron while the rest of the Mod pack head this way. I know if she were mine, she'd still be tucked up in bed with me after a weekend of passionate, rampant sex, so the thought of her being in a clinch with that black-haired parka'd idiot makes me so bloody angry.

We catch up with another pack of Rockers who are heading in our direction, so now there are about thirty of us in our group. I don't know these guys, but they seem friendly and some of them have got pretty impressive machines so I'm looking forward to examining them later. That's the best thing about these outings; meeting like-minded enthusiasts and discussing all-things-bike so I hope I get a chance to do this at some point today.

I notice one of the guys in the lead is waving madly and pointing ahead of us to where I can see an advertising sign for a petrol station coming into view. I rise slightly from my hunched position to see what has attracted his attention and spot a crowd of Mods waiting to pull out onto the road. As we roar past them at speed, the Rockers hurl abuse at them and I stick two fingers up as well, which is reciprocated of course.

We're travelling so fast I don't get the chance to look if she's there, but I definitely spotted the back view of a girl with long brown hair sitting on a similar bike to the moron's. This girl had a crash helmet on though, so either the moron has seen sense at last or it wasn't her. My gut feeling though is that it _was_ her, as like last Monday I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck start to prickle. Maybe my eyes did see something which has registered in my brain like before, but it's not possible to turn back and check.

"Shit!" I curse out loud as the implications of her being in Clacton at the same time as a crowd of unruly Mods and Rockers start to register.

I can sense my blood pressure starting to rise as I'm utterly furious that this idiotic Mod is taking his girlfriend towards a place where they may be trouble. I want to shake some sense into him, before I punch his lights out that is. My fingers squeeze the handlebars wishing it was his neck, but then I remember I was totally cool about Tanya coming along for the ride which makes me feel a bit two-faced. However I know Tanya can look after herself as she's tough as old boots compared to my girl, and could probably hold her own against the black-haired moron with one hand tied behind her back.

" _What the hell is she thinking coming here,_ " I growl loudly and angrily.

Emmett is alongside me and I know he's heard me as he half-turns his head then shrugs his shoulders. I carry on muttering under my breath this time as though I'm admonishing her face to face for being so reckless.

 _"That fucking moron's put you in danger. You'll be terrified when you see what packs of wound-up Mods and Rockers can do. What the hell were you thinking of?"_

I'm so tempted to turn around and stop her but I know I can't.

 _"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"_ I yell into the wind, but my curse words disappear into the surrounding countryside which has already been polluted by the noise of thirty screaming motorbikes.

I'm boiling now as I want to whisk her away from the jerk and the inevitable fracas which is going to happen, and then she'll be so grateful to me she'll ….. and then my inner monologue takes over again.

 _"Don't go there, Eddie, it's not going to happen because you can't risk her recognising you. There's no way you want her connecting this bad-boy with the young lawyer in the smart suit who leers at you from office windows and coffee shops. Jesus! I'm an effing pervert_." I admonish myself.

After another fifteen minutes of driving at full pelt, we reach the outskirts of the town. We roar through the usually quiet resort of Clacton heading towards a social club at the end of the beach which we've been told has a massive forecourt. When we arrive and find a spot to park up, I can see some of the other lads from the Ace have beaten us here, plus there's at least another seventy other bikes. Many of the other bikers have girlfriends or other guys sitting on the pillions which means, including us, there are well over a hundred Rockers in the car park already, plus there are about thirty already on the beach. Everyone's aware of the impending arrival of the Mod packs who will most likely be turning up in the next fifteen minutes or so and I can feel the tension starting to build. I recognise some of the guys and girls from previous get-togethers, but many of the ones closest to me are new faces and it's obvious that plenty of them are looking forward to the confrontation.

I notice some of these new Rockers are 'tooled-up' and I give these guys a wide berth as I don't want to be associated with them or be drawn into any plans they have for attacking the Mods. I'm okay for a bit of rough and tumble, but as soon as weapons are involved I'm not interested. As they're not Rockers who come to the Ace, I don't feel any sort of pack-allegiance towards them and frankly some of them look a bit crazy to me. I don't carry any sort of weapon either, other than a small pen-knife which is borderline legal. I can't risk being prosecuted for 'Carrying an Offensive Weapon' which could mean jail-time if there's trouble and I'm caught. I know some of the Ace boys carry heavy-duty flick-knives which are illegal, but they maintain they're only for self-defence and usually keep them out of sight.

That disgusting low-life, James, is in with the other crowd already, but most of the Ace boys are hanging back for the moment. I know James carries a mean looking and totally illegal flick knife and wears knuckle-dusters even when he's not fighting, the pathetic wanker, but to be truthful he could knock anyone out just by coming up close to them because he stinks.

Emmett is still astride Bonnie and is looking at me nervously. I can tell he's seriously concerned as some of these guys are definitely out for blood and not for a bit of fun. There's no doubt he's thinking along the same lines as me, which is there's bound to be some serious trouble when the Mods arrive and he won't want to be part of it. I'm worried about the girl, as I'm guessing she'll be totally oblivious to what's waiting for her and her friends, and I'm in a desperate quandary about what to do.

Emmett gets off his bike and comes over to me and grabs me by my arm, pulling me to one side.

"I don't like the look of this, Eddie. I don't want to get involved. Some of these guys are out of control."

"Agreed, do you want to get out now?"

"No, but I'm not setting foot on the beach. I'm staying here with Bonnie."

"Okay, we'll stay put for the moment and watch what's going on, but if the police turn up I'm off. I'm not ending up in a cell if I can help it."

More than half of the Ace boys are still hanging back from the large group who are now moving onto the beach to join the others and I'm glad to see Sam is one of the ones staying behind. Tanya is sitting side-saddle on his bike lighting up a cigarette and she's watching to see what I'm going to do. We don't have long to wait before it's obvious the Mods are arriving in the town and I can feel my heart starting to pound when the distinctive sound of a pack of scooters can easily be heard coming towards us.

Everyone looks up as the first scooter appears on the promenade. The Mods pull in at the far end of the sea wall and their arrival is met by a triumphant yell from some of the Rockers. Already some knives and chains are being waved in the air and James is actually licking the blade of his knife like a pirate, which in any other circumstances would make me laugh out loud because he looks like a prick. Now I'm beginning to suspect he's genuinely deranged and highly dangerous as this is not normal behaviour. When the Mods start jumping over the sea wall onto the sand, the last of the crazier Rockers who have stayed in the car park run across the road and join the growing numbers on the beach, following which there's a mass exodus of holidaymakers who have been nervously watching what's going on.

It's obvious what's going to happen and everyone on the beach who is not there for the fight makes a run for it, with some families having to abandon their personal belongings because of the impending battle. Within minutes, the beach is cleared of anyone who was just there for a day by the sea and I'm gutted when I realise we're to blame for ruining their afternoon.

More scooters are arriving but they are some distance away at the furthest end of the beach. I'm frantically looking for the girl but I can't spot her amongst the sea of olive-green parkas and black Harrington jackets. The majority of the Mods have abandoned their scooters and are running onto the beach and it's obvious some of them are carrying knives or other implements because it's easy to see the metal glinting in the sunlight.

Within a few minutes, an ever-growing crowd of Mods are at the other end of the beach and they're shouting abuse, calling the Rockers derogatory names like "Wankers", or "Cock-Suckers", or "Filthy Greasers," and are taunting them with the two-fingered salute or the 'Tosser' gesture which is known world-wide.

I must admit that watching from my vantage point in the car park it's quite a sight. There are at least a hundred and fifty or so baying Mods at one end of the beach and about ninety to a hundred Rockers at the other, who are quietly sizing up the opposition. But, like the recent fight between Cassius Clay and Henry Cooper, there's only going to be one winning side and the Rockers know it. They stand their ground for a while to assess the enemy, then slowly they start moving towards the Mods, which is when some of the more deadly but previously hidden 'tools' are now brandished for the Mods to see.

The Mods stop in their tracks and you can almost see their minds working. I'm guessing they were originally feeling confident because they outnumbered the enemy on the beach about two to one, but now the Rockers from the car park have swollen the opposition ranks, their initial bravado is starting to wane. On top of that, unless Mods seriously outnumber Rockers, they're never going to be a match against guys who are grown men in their twenties or thirties. Some of these Rockers have been in the Army or have done their National Service, which means they've been trained in unarmed combat so know how to fight. Consequently an army of inexperienced kids hardly out of school is child's play to them.

The two groups are getting closer and the first deckchair is thrown by one of the Mods, then a hail of bottles, rocks and pebbles along with more deckchairs and verbal abuse is hurled in the Rockers' direction. The Rockers return fire and more deckchairs end up flying through the air with some being smashed to pieces to make weapons from the wood. Emmett and I run down to the sea wall and I'm still frantically looking for the girl, but it's impossible to make out whether she's on the beach among the Mods or if she's with the few girls watching from the safety of the promenade. The only girls I can see from this faraway look nothing like her so I'm hoping the jerk has seen sense and got her away from Clacton fast.

Just as the two groups come within about twenty-five yards of each other, the unmistakeable sound of police sirens and whistles cuts through the air and the promenade is suddenly full of navy blue uniforms. The two packs rush at each other and there's a pitch battle for about five minutes as the first wave of policemen jump onto the sand and join in. Some of the coppers get their truncheons out and start lashing out at anyone within range while others grab anyone they can get their hands on.

Now that some of their compatriots are being captured by the police and being hauled into police vans, the remaining Mods and Rockers start dashing in all directions to avoid getting arrested. I'm hoping this is the end of the battle, but I spot a group of Rockers, which includes James and some of his new mates, running after a pack of about fifteen Mods who were the last to give up fighting. They manage to catch three who haven't been quick enough to escape over the sand and about ten Rockers give them a severe kicking before about twenty Mods turn back and run at them to rescue their friends. More punches are thrown, then the Rockers scarper because more police are spilling onto the beach by now and are chasing anyone wearing leather or a parka. Quite a few from either side are caught and are dragged off into police vans then whisked away from the scene, but not before being bashed over the head by a policeman's truncheon. I can see the three Mods lying face-down on the sand and I guess they've been badly injured because none of them are moving, but I'm not hanging around to find out.

I get back to Tara and shout out to Emmett that I'm leaving. The car park rapidly fills with the Rockers who have avoided being arrested and quite a few of the guys have head wounds, probably from being hit by flying missiles. Before I've a chance to start Tara's engine, two police vans roar up and block the exit to the car park preventing our escape. About twenty coppers brandishing their truncheons jump out the back doors and pull on their pointy helmets as they line up by the wall. They're trying to look 'hard', which is actually impossible as none of them look more than about twenty, apart from one guy with three stripes on his arm who's obviously in charge and is out to make a name for himself.

"Right," shouts PC Plod after blowing his whistle several times to get our attention. "Nobody's going anywhere until I take everyone's names, and then you're staying put until the scooters have left. Do you understand?"

There's a moments silence when we all look at one another and then everyone bursts out laughing. It's easy to see from their faces that the young coppers blocking the entrance are all shitting themselves and there's no way they are going to stop us leaving. These twenty young lads are facing at least seventy to eighty hard-faced, muscular Rockers with their equally muscular girlfriends, who could if they worked as a pack (and felt that way inclined), pick up their Paddy Wagons and toss them into the sea. The coppers would follow shortly afterwards, along with their pointy helmets, if they didn't make a run for it that is. The Sergeant, or whatever he is, is still under the impression that we're going to take notice of him, but we've been in this situation before and non-cooperation and working as a pack is how we handle it.

As a man we all wander back to our respective bikes and start our engines, totally ignoring the police presence as if it wasn't there. We know they haven't got any back-up or it would be here by now so we all make ready to leave. The Essex police force must be thinly stretched along its long coastline as there are several other popular resorts which would be requiring protection from us and the Mods, so if this little show of force is all they have left, it isn't enough to arrest about a hundred stroppy Rockers who have no intention of playing ball.

I hear a yell from the back of the car park and one of our guys has discovered a pedestrian gate behind the club which is too narrow for a car to drive through, but plenty wide enough for a motorbike. There's absolutely nothing the police can do as everyone in the pack revs their bikes then we all turn en masse in the direction of the escape route. Within a couple of minutes the car park is emptied, apart from a few bikes that are probably the property of the Rockers who were arrested on the beach. One by one we roar through the alternative exit while the coppers scamper back to their vans; their embarrassed faces covered in dust.

I'm tempted to ride through the town in an attempt to check whether the girl is safe, but my common sense tells me to get away from Clacton as fast as possible in case road blocks are being set up in the surrounding area. I check Emmett is following me and head west until we're away from the town, leaving the residents of Clacton to clear up the mess.

The main pack heads north towards Frinton-on-Sea which is the nearest resort to Clacton, but I decide to split away as soon as we come to a junction. I carry on travelling inland and notice that as well as Emmett, a couple of the other bikers from the Ace are following me. After a few miles I spot a signpost for Colchester and make the decision to head there and find somewhere to stop for a while. I need a drink and something to eat as I'm starting to feel light-headed. Emmett and I didn't want to disturb Carol's lie-in by filling the house with the smell of bacon this morning so I'm feeling really hungry by now and I'm sure Emmett is too.

I need time to think as well, as what happened back there is not something I'm happy with. I'm a biker and a Rocker, and I love the camaraderie of being part of a large pack. Sometimes there's trouble and we fight amongst ourselves and I'm the first to admit I like winding-up Mods, but what I witnessed just now can only be described as gang warfare, which is not what I signed up for.

Maybe I'm maturing at last, or maybe it's because I was worrying about the girl and what would happen to her if she was caught up in the mayhem and was injured or arrested? I couldn't be part of that, as no matter what 'uniform' I'm wearing at the moment, there's still enough Edward Cullen in Eddie Masen to know what's right and what's wrong.

I'm still thinking about the situation I've left behind when I spot a sign for a pub and decide to pull in. The 'Coach and Horses' is a large, rambling hostelry that's set back from the road and was no doubt a stopping point for coaches back in the days before motorised forms of transport were invented. I slow right down so we don't make too much noise as we enter the car park as I don't want to unnerve the publican and his customers. He may still ask us to leave because of what we are and how we're dressed, however the car park is quite empty so there's a good chance he'll welcome the business if we give him the right impression when we walk in.

Eyebrows are definitely raised as four leather-clad bikers walk through the pub's door and make their way towards the bar. I spot one of the staff heading at speed into another part of the pub and I guess she's off to find the publican. I'm correct in my assumptions as he appears in an instant and heads towards us and he doesn't look happy.

I put on my best public school accent and address him very politely before he has a chance to throw us out.

"Good afternoon, Sir", I say, and the look of shock on his face is quite amusing as he wasn't expecting to be addressed like that. "We're not looking for any trouble, I can assure you. In fact, we've just avoided a spot of bother at the coast where some rowdy youngsters were making a scene. My three biking companions and I are just stopping for a drink and hopefully something to eat. Would that be acceptable?"

"Err, yes," he responds warily as he looks past us to see whether there are any more Rockers following behind. When he's confident there are only four of us so and the chance of us smashing up his pub are negligible, he visibly relaxes.

"We only do pie and mash, sonny. Is that okay?" He adds.

"Marvellous," I reply. (I wasn't expecting Haute Cuisine anyway). "Pie and mash for everyone and four pints of your local bitter, please."

The two guys from the Ace are giving me funny looks as they've never heard me talk 'posh' before, and I know I need to give them an explanation. Emmett for some reason is just grinning at me, which makes me wonder if he knows more about me than he's letting on. I hate lying, but if I admitted I'm a past pupil of Eton and did a Law degree at Cambridge, my credibility in the pack would take a nose-dive, so I revert back to the London brogue they're used to.

"I did amateur dramatics at school, guys. I'm good with accents," I whisper. Thankfully, they accept my explanation without question and we have a good laugh about it.

After collecting our drinks and paying up front for the food as well so the publican doesn't have to worry that we're going to do an 'eat it and beat it', we sit at a table by the window which is out the way of the other patrons who are mostly locals and also so we can keep an eye on our bikes. Within ten minutes of ordering we're stuffing our faces with huge plates of steak and kidney pie, mashed potatoes and peas, covered with thick gravy, and it is just what I needed; man-food and plenty of it.

I need to talk to Emmett about what happened in Clacton but now isn't the time. Because of my parents' party next weekend I won't see him for a fortnight, but this will give us both a chance to reflect on the direction our Rocker brotherhood is taking. I've had my fair share of punch-ups in the past, but this was a totally different situation altogether and not something I would want to repeat. Because of Emmett's pacifist tendencies, I know for certain he's as troubled as I am, as he's very quiet and not joining in the conversation.

The two guys who are with us are laughing and joking about the reaction of the Mods when they saw what our side were carrying, but even though I was laughing with them it was only a charade, as what happened wasn't a laughing matter. There were some dangerous weapons being displayed on both sides and someone could have been killed or badly injured. It was only the timely arrival of the police which prevented a more serious incident taking place.

After we've finished eating, I tell the others I'm keen to get back to London so I turn down the suggestion of another beer. The others decide to get back on the road as well so we finish our drinks and get ready to leave. As we're pulling our jackets on, we hear the high-pitched engines of several scooters outside and I immediately realise there's possibly going to be a confrontation if any Mods come in the pub. Through the window near to our table we spot about five of them pulling into the car park and stopping next to our bikes. The way they've positioned themselves means they're blocking my view of Tara and I immediately tense up.

I'm concerned they'll attack the bikes so I make my way over to the window where I can see the backs of four Mod boys and the face of one other. Each scooter has a girl on the pillion and they're looking warily at our bikes and then at the pub door. It's obvious there's a heated discussion going on, but because the doors and windows are closed, what they're saying is inaudible. And then I see her, and I can't help it but I gasp. The girl furthest away from the window with her back to me has long brown hair and the Mod she's with is definitely the guy who was outside the Express on Thursday. I'd recognise that thick mop of black hair and that ridiculously over the top scooter anywhere.

"Holy Christ, it's her," I fortunately don't say out loud. My heart starts to pound in my chest as I'm willing her to turn towards me so I can be absolutely sure, but even though I can't see her face I know it's her because … I can just feel it. I glance at the publican and it's obvious he's realised there's a situation brewing here as Mods and Rockers don't mix, and the opportunity for conflict is definitely there.

"We don't want any trouble," I call out to him and he nods his head then steps out from behind the bar and walks outside leaving the door ajar.

I don't want the girl to see me, so I move away from the window while the others keep an eye on what's happening. As the publican talks to the dark-haired moron and his friends, I'm unable to hear clearly what's being said, but there's definitely an animated conversation going on so I presume the Mods are refusing to leave. Because the pub door is open, I can just make out that the publican is agreeing to something and Emmett says that three of the girls are getting off their scooters and are following the publican into the bar.

As they enter, he points to a doorway on the opposite side of the pub and the penny drops. He's allowing the girls to use the Ladies room, but that's all. The four of us breathe a sigh of relief as a crisis has been averted; now I've just got to ensure she doesn't spot me.

The famous line from the film _Casablanca_ is running through my head as I think about the ridiculous odds of her and her boyfriend coming in to the same pub as me.

 _"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine."_

If I find out the publican is called 'Rick' and a black guy starts playing the piano in the corner, then I may start believing in miracles.

I sit down at the table with my back to the Ladies room and start fiddling with the beer mats until I hear them leaving. The girls are giggling about something as they walk towards the door and after about another minute or so I hear the sound of the scooters starting up. When I'm convinced they're gone my shoulders relax and I start breathing normally again which I hadn't noticed I wasn't doing. This was a shock as I didn't realise I was so tense.

We all get ready to leave for the second time and I thank the bar staff for the meal. I shake the publican's hand and apologise for all the excitement, after which he slaps me on the back and wishes us a safe journey home. Emmett and the other two are standing by the door ready to leave and as Emmett opens it, my girl comes flying through it, shrieking "I've left my scarf in the loo," then she stops dead in her tracks and stares straight at me.

It's obvious she either recognises me or _thinks_ she recognises me, as her mouth drops open but no words come out. One, two, three, four seconds pass and I can see the blush covering her cheeks and I know I've got to say something.

"Yeah?" I respond to her unspoken question and I give her a full-on Elvis Presley sneer. I've got to brazen this out or she'll know it's me and I don't want to be 'outed' in front of Emmett and the other guys from the Ace. I can see her eyes flitting over my body, starting with my unkempt Rocker hair down to my heavy riding boots, but I notice her eyes lingering over my legs, especially my thighs, which I know look awesome covered in smooth, well-fitting leather.

"Errr, sorry. You look like someone I know," she chokes out and her cheeks turn an even brighter pink. She takes a deep breath then carries on, this time walking calmly towards the Ladies room where she reappears about twenty seconds later carrying the scarf. As she walks warily past me, she gives me a side-eyed glance with her beautiful brown eyes then dashes out the door. I hear one of the other girls call out to her, and because of this, and also thanks to Emmett who is still holding the door wide-open, my curiosity about one aspect of this girl's existence is satisfied and my prayers are answered.

"Did you get it, Bella?"

'Bella!'

I know her name now. She's 'my brown haired girl' no more.

Bella; a name which is apt and I wonder whether it's short for anything, like Arabella, or Isabella, which are even more beautiful. I hear the moron calling out "Yes", then the five scooters roar away in the direction of London.

"Are you alright, Ed?"

Emmett is shaking me by the arm and looking at me strangely, as though I'm in a trance, which I suppose I am. "Do you know that girl?"

"Yes, I mean no, I mean yes I'm fine and no, I don't know her."

I'm rambling like an idiot and I know Emmett has picked up that she's affected me. I try and brush it off.

"I'm just surprised she had the guts to walk in here on her own, knowing we were in here. Then she talked to me."

"You talked to her first."

"Did I?"

"Oh yeah, dude! You most certainly did. I don't blame you though; she's a knockout for a Mod. She's got great hair, even though I prefer blondes."

"I didn't know that."

"Yeah, well, Marilyn Monroe still does it for me. Pity she's dead; not that I would've stood a chance."

I laugh at his remark. Marilyn was beautiful but definitely not my type, as her idea of 'sexiness' is nothing like mine. I'm definitely an Audrey man as she has an air of mystery behind those beautiful eyes, but maybe Bella is a close second to the delectable Miss Hepburn now, not that I would stand a chance with her either.

I check Tara over just to make sure the Mods haven't done anything to her while they were out there but she's fine. We get back on the road and head south-west towards London, and as we get up to speed, I just know we're going to overtake Bella and her friends as there's only one main road through this part of Essex.

Within a few minutes, I can see them ahead of us and I slow down so as not to frighten Bella or the moron. The last thing I want to do is to cause them to have an accident when we roar past. We're still doing about twenty miles an hour faster than the Mods and we're soon right behind them. There's a West Indian guy and a white girl on the scooter at the back, then there's two guys with girls, then there's Bella and the moron and another scooter a bit further out in front with a blonde haired guy who looks strangely familiar from the back, with a dark haired girl sitting behind him. Bella is the only one wearing a helmet which I still find surprising.

It's obvious they're all nervous about us being there as the girls are clinging onto the boys and the boys are looking straight ahead, determined not to make eye-contact with any of us. Bella has her face buried in the moron's parka and I can sense she's terrified. I rev Tara slightly and come alongside the moron and I shout out to him.

"Don't worry, you jerk; we're not going to do anything to you this time, but if you and you're friends are irresponsible enough to take your girls towards danger again, and I see you, I'll fucking kill you, do you hear me?"

"Fuck off, wanker!" is his eloquent response and he sticks two fingers up at me. As he takes the offending hand off the handlebars, the scooter wobbles and a look of horror flashes across his podgy face.

"Jake!" I hear Bella shout but it's obvious she's crying. Before she has a chance to look at me, I twist the throttle and accelerate away and the others follow. So now I know the moron's name as well. Jake the Jerk, that figures!

I settle into my driving position and concentrate on the road ahead. I want to get back to London as fast as possible as I'm not in a good frame of mind. I'm incensed that Bella has been caught up in all of this and I'm pissed she's been frightened, not just by me, but by the whole senseless Mod/Rocker rivalry, that when you examine it in the cold light of day is absolutely ridiculous. We're not Montagues or Capulets, or Jets and Sharks, or even Rangers and Celtic; we're just young guys and girls who like different types of bikes and dress accordingly. What the hell?

I slow down slightly so I'm alongside Emmett and yell out to him.

"I'm going straight home, Em. I won't see you for two weeks remember. Say thanks to Carol for me will you?"

Emmett nods his head in acknowledgement and gives me a wave as I pull away.

"Okay Tara," I say to my trusty steed, "there's an open road ahead of us; let's see how many laws we can break between here and Kensington."

I twist the throttle again and Tara responds instantly. Her acceleration is breath-taking and I give in to the temptation to risk my life several times before I reach London's traffic lights as I need something to distract me from all this shit. As Emmett and the others are left behind, I race towards the city, easily hitting the ton on the straight stretches of road, but not even the exhilaration of travelling at over a hundred miles an hour can top the moment when Bella's eyes locked with mine and for a brief second we connected.

Like a lovesick teenager I work out that in about eighteen hours' time, she'll be outside the Express offices in Fleet Street, while I'll be at my window looking down at her.

I wonder then whether she'll look up at me?

* * *

 **So, Eddie didn't rescue Bella from the fight - sorry folks if that's what you were expecting. Bella has seen him now in his leathers, so you'll find out her reaction to that awesome vision in the next chapter. Will she recognise him, or will she think this guy is just someone who looks like the guy from Fleet Street? Also, which one will she prefer? She's obviously escaped from Clacton, but did Jake abandon her briefly? If she hasn't got a reason for dumping him yet, surely seeing Eddie in his leather trousers will help her make her mind up?**

FYI

Following the real-life punch-up in **Clacton** that weekend, 97 people were arrested and quite a few people were injured. It was the first really big fight involving Mods and Rockers and set the scene for the summer of 1964.

In 1963, **Cassius Clay** (who changed his name to Mohammed Ali) fought Henry Cooper who was then the British Heavyweight Boxing champion. Cooper actually managed to knock Clay to the floor; one of the few fighters to do so when Clay was in his prime. The fight had to be stopped due to Cooper's eye being cut, but afterwards Clay said "Cooper had hit him so hard that his ancestors in Africa felt it."

 **Paddy Wagon's** or Black Maria's were the vans that transported prisoners either to a police station, a court or jail. Paddy Wagon is actually an American term that crossed the pond in the 1930's. Apologies to my (hopefully still) Irish friends, but it's said that they got the name in Chicago because the majority of prisoners being carted off to the clink back then were of Irish descent, so that's where it came from.

 **PC Plod** was the fictional policeman in Enid Blyton's Noddy books. He first appeared in 1949, and for quite a few years after that the name was used as an affectionate and jocular term for a British policeman. I don't hear it at all now which is a shame, but it's probably because you very rarely see a policeman walking on the street; they're usually in cars, driving not plodding!

 **Rangers and Celtic** are two football (soccer) teams that play in Glasgow, Scotland. Their rivalry is legendary, as Rangers are supported by the Protestant community and Celtic are supported by the Catholics. There are other cities in Britain that have rivalries when there are two or more big clubs, but nothing could touch the passion of the Glaswegian fans back then, unless it was when England and Scotland played one another, then every Glaswegian was on the same side. (My dad was a Rangers supporter BTW).

 **Pie and Mash** was as popular in the East End as Fish and Chips. Eel Pie (yuk) was a special favourite! After the war, thousands of East Enders moved out to Essex to escape the polluted air of London and the deprivation, so Pie and Mash was usually on the menu if a pub served food.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter - see you next time for Bella's reaction to seeing Edward in leather (fans self)!

Joan x


	9. Chapter 9

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 8**

 **Bella**

"Jake," I scream hysterically. "Get me out of here!"

Alice is definitely panicking and some of the other girls are looking frightened as well as it's obvious a fight is going to kick-off any second. There's been the occasional punch-up at The Roxy so it's not as if I haven't seen fights before, but nothing like this. I've never known a Mod to carry a knife or any other weapon, so this is a total shock to me that some of the boys I know have come to the beach prepared for this sort of conflict.

Jake has already jumped off the scooter and has run over to the sea wall. It's obvious by the look of excitement on his face he wants to be on the beach with the others. He's wavering, but I just know he's going to join in. He whips around and pulls me off the pillion.

"Bella, I can't abandon my mates but I'm not going to get into a fight if I can help it. See the shop over there?" He points to a small shop selling buckets and spades and other beachy-type stuff. "Go in there and stay put until I come and get you. Don't move, do you hear?"

Even though I'm angry at his decision this isn't the time to argue, so I nod my head vigorously and turn to run across the road. Jaz has overheard what Jake is saying and before he has a chance to say the same to Alice, she grabs hold of my hand and dashes across the road with me. We burst into the shop, but unfortunately for us it's now packed with terrified holidaymakers seeking refuge and they're all staring at us as though we're the enemy.

"Oh Shit!" Alice blurts out then turns on her heel and drags me out of the shop before we get lynched.

"Where are we going to go?" I shriek. I'm hopping up and down on the pavement looking frantically for a safe place to hide when Angela comes running towards us.

"Come with me," she shouts and we run behind her for about two hundred yards until we get to Woolworths where we dive inside the store. I take my crash helmet off to try and disguise the fact that I'm a Mod, but then I realise I've nowhere to conceal it. Fortunately, there doesn't seem to be any angry holidaymakers in here so I feel relatively safe for the moment but I'm still in a state of panic and I'm actually shaking from head to toe. Alice takes pity on me and drags me over to the Pick 'n Mix counter and fills a candy-striped paper bag with assorted sweets then pays for them. She shoves the bag in my hand hissing, "get some sugar in you before you collapse, Bella," then chooses a toffee for herself and pops it in her mouth.

"How are the boys going to find us," I wail. I know I'm being an absolute pain in the arse, but I'm so petrified by what could be happening out there that I can't think straight.

"Don't worry," Angela says in a caring tone. "I've told Tyler we'll be in Woolies so they'll come and get us when it's all over."

"What if they get arrested, or end up in hospital?" I choke out through a mouthful of pineapple chunks, (my favourite – Alice is a legend).

"They won't, Bella. If it comes to a real fight I'm sure they'll stay out the way as I'm positive our boys don't carry weapons. They'll let nutters like Ian who's been popping Purple Hearts all morning do all the fighting."

"Purple Hearts? What the hell are they?"

"Drugs, Bella. Uppers, Amphetamines, Bennies, you know. They're stimulants and give you a buzz. They make you feel like you can run a marathon or fly like Superman. They keep you awake all night and give you lots of energy. The come-down is a bit gross though."

"You mean some of the boys are taking drugs?" I ask incredulously. (God, I'm so naïve).

Alice and Angela both nod sagely. "And some of the girls too," Alice adds.

"Does Jake take drugs?"

"I don't think so," Angela replies. "I've never actually seen him taking anything but that's not to say he doesn't. I can usually tell who's using because their eyes dilate. That means the black dot in the middle almost disappears. It does come back after a while though."

I think about what Jake's eyes look like and I'm sure they've always looked normal, but I'm still not reassured; in fact this whole drug-thing makes me feel even worse. I'm starting to imagine I'm in a bad dream. Rockers, fights, drugs, penises; I wonder what else is going to happen to me today. It had started out so well and I was really excited when I was outside The Roxy, but now I truly wish I'd stayed at home with mum and watched some stupid film on the TV.

Angela stays by the shop doorway to keep watch and after about ten or so anxious minutes, she shouts to us she can see Tyler and some of the others coming along the road on their scooters. I'm relieved when she says Jake and Jaz are in the group and thankfully they're still in one piece. When we get outside I can hear police whistles and sirens in the distance and lots of shouting and revving of engines and I can tell from the boys' faces they're as keen to get away as we are. Without bothering to put on the crash helmet, I slide onto the pillion and fling my arms around Jake's chest.

"Just get me away from here," I whisper and then I start crying uncontrollably. I can't help it because my emotions are in chaos. It all comes to the surface as soon as we start moving because I'm so relieved to be escaping this awful place. I'm also angry and hurt because Jake promised he'd keep me safe, but he put his mates above _my_ safety when it came to it and I'm not sure whether I can trust him anymore. If he takes drugs as well, it's plain to me I'll have to finish it.

We leave Clacton behind us and we've been driving inland for about five miles when Jaz pulls into a lay-by and the other scooters in our group come to a halt behind him. He slides off his seat and puts his arms around Alice and gives her a hug and a long kiss. Alice isn't as distressed as I am, but even she choked in relief when she saw with her own eyes that Jaz was safe.

Jake gets off the scooter as well and puts his arms around me while I'm still sitting on the pillion. "I'm sorry," he whispers in my ear. "I didn't think it'd be bad today. I wouldn't have brought you here if I'd known." He looks at me for reassurance that I'm not angry, but I can't give it to him. "I couldn't run away from my mates, Bella. I'm not a coward. You do understand?"

I can't answer his question directly as I need to think things over before deciding what to do.

"What happened then?" I ask as I wipe my eyes. I've stopped crying but I guess I must look terrible.

"Nothing much. To be honest, it was a bit of anti-climax. They started coming towards us and we stood our ground, then the police showed up before there was any proper fighting. We were all running from the beach to avoid being nicked, but some of the Rockers grabbed a few of our guys and punched and kicked them. I didn't see a lot of what was happening, but some of our boys went back to rescue them. I don't know what happened after that. When we were driving away, we saw a couple of police vans going up to where the Rocker's bikes were parked, I presume to stop them following us out of the town."

I'm relieved at the last piece of information as I was imagining the Rockers might catch us up as we head home. As we're only five boys and five girls together now, we wouldn't stand a chance. Then I spot Jaz staring at Jake with a 'what-the-fuck' expression on his face, and I realise without any doubt that Jake has played down what really happened on the beach. I'm angry about that too, but to be honest I just want to leave Clacton behind me and try and forget about what has been one of the worst days of my life.

"Where are we going now?" I ask, and I know I sound jumpy and anxious.

"Do you want to go home?"

"Yes! I'm sorry Jake but I'm cold and I'm frightened. This isn't my idea of fun at all."

"Okay, Bella. We'll head back to London. Maybe we could do something nice this evening instead?"

I nod my head and Jake puts his arms around me as I've started crying again. I really am a baby but I've never experienced anything like this before and I suppose I'm suffering from some type of shock.

"I need to go to the loo," Angela says. "Can we stop somewhere so I can pee?"

The boys groan and Jaz says he knows of a pub not far from here. It's obvious to me he's familiar with this part of the country and I wonder whether Alice knows anything about his background and where he grew up. There's something mysterious about him, like he's keeping a dark secret, but he's a nice guy and treats Alice well, which is more important than where he came from.

We get underway again and within a few minutes we spot the pub Jaz was referring to. The car park looks fairly empty so we pull in, but all of us gasp when we spot four huge motorbikes parked out of sight of the road, which means there may be between four and eight Rockers in the pub.

"Shit!" Tyler says. "We'd better go somewhere else."

"But I'm bursting," Angela whines. "I really need to go."

At that moment, a middle-aged man storms out of the pub door and walks rapidly towards us.

"You're not coming in here; I don't want any trouble," he shouts and points his waving finger at the motorbikes. "The boys in there haven't caused us any problems so I suggest you go elsewhere." He gives us all a suspicious look and adds, "Anyway, none of you look old enough to be in a pub."

"I'm nineteen, nearly twenty," Jake responds indignantly. "All of us are over eighteen and none of us want to cause any problems either."

"Well you're still not coming in. If you don't leave I'm calling the police."

Tyler dived into the conversation then.

"Okay, we'll go, but can my girlfriend go in to use the Ladies room? She's desperate."

The publican looked at Angela whose face was screwed up by now.

"Okay, but only her."

"Can I go too?" Alice chimed in.

"And me?" I said.

The publican rolled his eyes.

"Okay, just the girls, but you go in and come straight out. No messing about."

I slide off the scooter and follow Alice, Angela and the man into the pub. As I enter the bar, which is lovely and warm compared to outside, I glance across to where the Rockers are sitting and see four guys sitting around a table near the window. They look up when we come in, but I can only see the faces of three of them as one turns away as soon as we walk through the door.

Angela sprints towards the Ladies and when we get in there we hear her sigh as she relieves herself. As Alice and I wait our turn, (there's only one loo), I look at myself in the mirror and I'm shocked by my reflection. My hair is a complete mess because the top part has been flattened by the crash helmet. The rest of it is curlier than usual because of the dampness in the air and is full of tangles, despite most of it being covered by Jake's scarf, plus my eyes are all puffy because I've been crying.

Alice goes in the loo next, so I decide to give my hair a brush through while I'm waiting. I take off Jake's scarf and place it on a shelf, then proceed to attempt to get my hair in some sort of order. After Angela has washed her hands, she gives the back of my hair a go and by the time Alice comes out the loo, it doesn't look too bad.

I dive into the cubicle next and as I come out, Alice and Angela are telling me to hurry up, which is a bit unfair as Alice had taken ages in there. I give my hands a quick wash and wipe then follow them through the pub and out the door. The Rockers are still sitting at their table and don't look up as we leave which I'm pleased about as I don't particularly want to see their faces again. Jake is smirking as he helps me with my crash helmet, and when everyone's ready to go, we roar off towards London.

We've been moving for less than twenty seconds when I realise I've left Jake's scarf on the shelf in the Ladies, so I tap him on the shoulder and shout in his ear to stop. Luckily we were leading this time, so Jake pulls over and explains to the others that his girlfriend is missing some brain cells, so after a few annoyed eyebrows are raised we turn back. As soon as we get in the car park, I jump off the bike, take my helmet off and run towards the pub on my own. As I approach the door, it magically opens in front of me so I hurtle through it yelling "I've left my scarf in the loo," and then I stop dead, because standing in my way are the four Rockers who are obviously on the point of leaving.

I look up at the Rocker who is directly between me and the Ladies and I choke, as his face is the one that's been haunting my day and night-time dreams since last Monday, which is exactly a week ago almost to the hour. It's 'him', or someone who looks exactly like 'him', and I feel as if all the air has been sucked from my body and I've become an empty shell.

I fully expect to collapse in a heap of dust at his feet, but I don't. Instead I stare into this man's incredible eyes, which are the same eyes that gazed into mine in the cake shop, and then I study his face. The cheekbones are the same, the jawline is the same, but that's where the similarities end. The Rocker's hair is darker and greasier and flops over his forehead instead of being neatly groomed. His face is covered with stubble instead of being clean shaven, and the soft pouty mouth that looked so sensuous in the coffee shop is now sneering at me. On top of all that, his body shape seems slimmer than my suited Monday Man's, as this guy's leathers fit him like a glove, plus his posture this time is confrontational; in other words tight and angry. If he wasn't so bloody handsome I'd be terrified of him.

"Yeah?" he spits in a hostile and aggressive manner.

"Errr, sorry. You look like someone I know," I choke and I know I've gone bright red. This is so embarrassing, so I concentrate on making my way towards the Ladies room without falling over but I can feel the burn of the Rocker's eyes boring into my back. Thankfully Jake's scarf is where I left it so I grab it, but before leaving the safety of the Ladies room, I take a long deep breath for courage before going back into the bar and heading towards the door.

The Rockers haven't moved an inch and I try to stop myself from looking at him again but I can't help it. My heart is pounding in my chest and ears, and my whole body is tingling as my eyes are magnetically drawn to his face. I can feel heat radiating from his body, or is it me, burning up with embarrassment or just plain desire?

"It can't be him, can it?" I ask myself over and over again as I cross the beer-stained carpet. The door is opened for me by one of the Rockers who's the size of a house. "Thank you," I whisper and then I run back to Jake.

"Did you get it, Bella?" Alice shouts out.

I wave the scarf in the air then wrap it around my neck after Jake has helped me get my crash helmet on. I actually can't shout out a response to Alice as my tongue has welded itself to the roof of my mouth because of what's just happened. I give Jake a little kiss on the cheek and I'm sure he takes this as a sign he's been totally forgiven for being an arse today, which he definitely hasn't, and then we're off.

I wrap my arms around my neglectful boyfriend as we get underway again, but as Essex zips by I don't notice the countryside at all. My mind is re-living my encounter with the Rocker and all I can see is his piercing eyes and the look of shock on his face when I burst through the door. It's the fraction of a second when our eyes connected that convinces me he's my Monday Man, but then I dismiss this notion as being ridiculous. Maybe he has a twin brother, or just a brother or cousin who resembles him? They say everyone has a doppelganger, but the chance of me meeting my Monday Man's doppelganger in a pub in Essex must be a billion to one.

I cannot process the fact that the guy who sneered at me as if I was a piece of shit on his shoe, is the same person as the man in the coffee shop, who looked at me as though...I was an angel from heaven in comparison. The Rocker seemed taller than my Monday Man, but maybe this was because he was wearing heavy boots rather than classic Oxford's which would have a thinner sole. His hair was unruly and dangling over his forehead, admittedly in a very sexy way, but in a totally different style to Monday Man's. His riding leathers were tight around his slim hips and smoothly hugged the top of his endless legs, so it would be difficult to accurately compare his body shape to a man in a loose business suit, but there was something about the broadness of his shoulders and the shape of his upper body which looked very familiar.

I know I'm being ridiculous as I've only seen my Monday Man briefly, so maybe I'm seeing him in every good looking guy I bump into now. Anyway, even if it is the same guy, he's not going to be interested in me. And, I'm Jake's girlfriend now, so I shouldn't be thinking about other boys (or men) at the moment.

I squeeze Jake a little bit tighter in an effort to convince myself that I'm happy with what I've got, but to be honest, compared to Jake, my Monday Man and the Rocker are in a different league, but in a totally different way. Monday Man, as well as being outrageously good looking, is obviously a professional, like an accountant or a lawyer or something like that. If for some unknown reason he got to know who I was and where I came from, he wouldn't be interested in Cockney Bella from the typing pool.

The Rocker on the other hand is...sex personified. He looked edgy and dangerous but totally in control of his manliness and I bet he's had hundreds of women worshipping at his feet. A man with his experience wouldn't look twice at someone as innocent as me, but to be honest I would never consider having a relationship with a grown man like him, as I guess he would only be after one thing, which is sex, sex and more sex.

That thought makes me squirm on my seat and I can feel my temperature rising at the thought of being in a clinch with the Rocker and what he could do to me. Apart from what I've learned at school in Biology, plus what I've picked up from my friends, I'm totally clueless about sex, and to be honest I haven't needed to think about it much. Actually 'doing it' has never crossed my mind as I've never thought of a boy in that way. Well, that's not exactly true, because Paul McCartney or George Harrison have starred in many of my teenage fantasies, but as that particular scenario is also a million miles from reality it doesn't really count.

I look at the back of Jake's head as we're careering along. Do I think of Jake in this way? Do I fancy him enough to have sex with him? The answer is a resolute 'no', and I shake my head in confusion. And then I re-think my response. Maybe I should be saying, 'not yet', as I don't really know him. I certainly don't love him at the moment, but this might come with time. I don't believe in 'love at first sight', but you can be insanely attracted to someone, even if you don't know what's in their soul. I know without doubt that I'm insanely attracted to the Rocker _and_ my Monday Man, even though they might as well be Paul or George they're so far above me.

I know I've got some serious thinking to do about this situation. I don't feel as though I could talk to Alice about it though, as she would think I'm nuts. Also, there's no way I could tell her that the Rocker in the pub was the sexiest man I'd ever laid eyes on. She would be calling for an ambulance and having me committed to the funny-farm if I admitted to that. She claims she hates Rockers and everything they stand for. But what do they stand for? Are they really any different from Jake or Jaz?

We've only been on the road for about ten minutes when my thoughts are interrupted by the unmistakeable sound of motorbikes coming up behind us and it's obvious the four Rockers are about to overtake us. Even though I want to see the Rocker's face again, I bury my face in Jake's parka as I'm terrified we're going to be attacked and I cling onto him even harder. Through the crash helmet I hear Jake and one of the Rockers having an argument and I scream his name to ensure he remembers I'm behind him on the pillion. I feel the bike wobble and I look up in time to see the Rocker with the incredible eyes speeding off in the distance and I know then I'm safe.

The rest of the journey is a blur to me. When we reach the outskirts of London I've no idea what time it is and I don't dare move my arms from around Jake to look at my watch. Jake has mentioned doing something nice this evening but all I want to do is go home, have a long hot bath and an early night. I've had enough excitement, if you could call it that, for one day.

We get back to Poplar just after four o'clock and Jake shouts out he's heading for The Roxy before taking me home. I can't really object because I can guess he's worried about the guys we left behind in Clacton and wants to find out what happened after he abandoned them to get me. They've obviously arranged to meet up to exchange stories and I must admit I'm curious to find out what really happened after we left.

When we get to the Club, about seven other scooters have already arrived and we get a cheer as we come to a halt. Some of the boys walk over to us and start telling us their stories, but there's not much we didn't know already. Apparently three Mod boys were attacked quite badly but they were from another part of London. One was taken to hospital with a suspected fractured skull. Quite a few Mods were arrested but none of them were from The Roxy. Riley and Jessica and some of the others had gone to Southend for the afternoon but everyone else had come back to London and about half had gone straight home. There wasn't much enthusiasm to do anything else as most of the boys were tired, so Jake offers to take me home.

I give Alice a hug and say 'bye to Jaz and some of the others and walk back to the scooter. Jake gets on without saying anything and we set off for my house. I'm debating whether I should invite him in, but I'm really tired and I just want to unwind on my own for a while.

We pull up a little way away from my front door so I'm guessing Jake wants a snog, which I don't object to. He's a good kisser and as he said before, practice makes perfect and I think I'm getting better. He helps me off the pillion and after I've taken the crash helmet off, he wraps his arms around me and I get a full-on French kiss, which is really nice, but only because I'm pretending it's the Rocker who's giving it to me, not Jake.

For some reason I don't feel guilty about this and my imagination starts to run riot. I can almost feel the Rocker's floppy hair brushing across my forehead and his stubbly jaw rubbing against my face. It's not Jake's body I'm holding tightly, it's the Rocker's leather-covered torso that's in my arms and pressing against my chest. I'm sorely tempted to place my hands on Jake's arse and pretend it's the Rocker's tight muscles I'm caressing, but stop myself as Jake might start getting ideas. I'm responding to this kiss in a way I've never responded to a kiss before, and without having to think about it, my tongue springs into action. Jake's mouth is nothing like the Rocker's, but I pretend anyway, and I imagine it's his tongue that's massaging mine and I can't help but moan out loud. Jake breaks away and looks into my eyes in wonder.

"Wow!" he exclaims. "Where the hell did that come from? Do you really want to go home or would you prefer going somewhere a bit more private?"

I force myself to laugh and kiss him on the lips, slightly more chastely this time.

"You said 'practice makes perfect' and you're a good teacher, Jake."

"Well thanks for the vote of confidence, I'm flattered."

"And I'm tired. Do you want to come in?" I ask out of politeness.

"Nah, I'm knackered as well to be honest and I don't think I can cope with another lecture from your dad. I'll see you on Wednesday if that's okay. I'll come round for you at about seven?"

"Okay, Jake. See you then," I say and wander slowly back to the house. I give him a little wave as he pulls away and I watch him until he disappears.

I open the door and dad is in his usual place by the fire. Mum is cooking dinner in the kitchen and I can hear Mike's radio on upstairs, so the whole family is home.

"Hello," I shout and wander down the hall towards the kitchen. I hear the rustle of my Dad's newspaper and him grunting as he hauls himself out of his chair.

"Just a minute, young lady," he calls out as he comes into the hall, and he doesn't look happy. "Where the hell have you been today?"

"Out with Jake, Alice and her boyfriend, why?"

"Did you go to the coast on his scooter?"

I gulp and I can feel myself heating up. "What makes you think that?"

"Just answer the question, Isabella. Have you been to the coast with a crowd of Mods today?"

Mum wanders out of the kitchen and stands there with her arms crossed and I know I'm in trouble.

"Bella, just answer him will you. We've been really worried since we heard the news on the radio that there's been trouble with Mods and Rockers in Hastings today."

"Hastings?" I reply while thanking my lucky stars that I don't have to lie. "I haven't been to Hastings, or anywhere near Hastings. Hastings is miles away, in Kent isn't it?"

"Are you telling the truth," dad says and I can already see him starting to relax. He can usually tell when I'm lying, and at least I've got a clear conscience as far as Hastings is concerned.

"Yes, dad. I've been with Jake, Alice and Jaz all day, and Angela and her boyfriend Tyler, plus a few others. We had a ride around for a while but it was really cold so we found a café and had some tea. Anyway, I promise you I haven't been anywhere near Hastings, so you won't see me on the six o'clock news tonight."

"Alright, Isabella, I'm sorry," mum sighs. "We were worried and we didn't have any way of contacting you."

"Well get a telephone installed," I respond angrily to both of them but to dad in particular, "and then I'll be able to call you to say where I am and what time I'll be back. It's the 1960's, dad, not the 1860's."

Dad huffs and goes back to his chair and picks the paper up again.

"I'm thinking about it, but I'm not promising anything. Phones are expensive, especially if they're misused. I'm not getting one if you're going to be on it all night talking to Alice or that boyfriend of yours. By the way, I hope you're wearing a helmet now."

"Yes, dad, and if you want proof just look at my hair. I've got a ridiculous ridge in it where the helmet ends."

I turn around and show him the back of my head and he actually laughs.

"Okay, I believe you. Now leave me alone to read the paper, and tell your brother to turn that bloody music down. All I can hear is thump thump thump coming through the floorboards and it's driving me potty."

I grin at mum as I head upstairs, but before I go in my room I bang on Mike's door. He doesn't hear me because of the music so I bang again and eventually I hear the creak of the bed and then the door opens.

"Whazzup Bells?" he grunts.

"Dad says turn the bloody music down."

"Shit! Okay," and then he hesitates and gives me a funny look. "Can you come in here for a minute? I want to ask you something."

"I'm really tired, Mike. Can it wait?"

"It'll only take a minute. Promise."

I huff then give in and close the door behind me. Mike's room is like a bomb site. You can't see the floor for clothes, books, newspapers and sports equipment. Numerous pens, pencils and writing pads are scattered all over his bed and I've obviously disturbed him writing something.

"What is it then?" I ask and I know I sound irritated.

"You've been to Clacton today, haven't you?"

Mike doesn't say this in an accusatory way; he's stating a fact as if he'd had me followed, but I'm not going to give up the information easily.

"What makes you think that?"

"Some of the Mods from The Roxy are in my football team. I play with them on Saturday morning and they told me you were all heading there today."

I go to say something, but Mike carries on.

"Don't panic, Bella, I'm not going to shop you to mum and dad. You did go, didn't you?"

I sigh because there's no point in denying it.

"Yes, I did, and it was bloody awful. But why are you so interested."

"I'd like to do a piece for the Advertiser on what it was like to be there. Obviously I won't reveal you're the source, but I'd like to do a feature on what happened from a Mod's point of view and give the readers an insight into the Mod culture in general. Would you help me?"

I was really surprised at Mike's request. For a start, when he was talking to me he sounded 'grown up' for a change. Normally all I got from him was Neanderthal type grunts or curse words, so I wasn't used to speaking to _Junior Reporter, Mike Swan, of the East London Advertiser_. Also, he obviously wasn't going to spill to mum and dad, which I found surprising because he was very protective of me and didn't like the fact that I had a boyfriend now. Typical brother behaviour of course but I would be a liar though if I said I didn't like it.

"Can I think about it," I reply.

"Yeah, of course, but I'd like to have the piece done by Wednesday night as the press rolls on Thursday ready for the Friday print. The news is fresh at the moment so if I leave it a week, the news will be old."

"Okay, I'll give you a yes or a no tomorrow morning."

"Fine. Thanks. Anyway, what was so bloody awful about it?"

"It was a long way to go … and I was cold and miserable … and Clacton was boring … and there were lots of ugly, dirty Rockers there … and Jake sort of abandoned me while he went to help his mates … and,"

"What!" Mike interrupts. "I'll smash his fucking teeth in, the tosser."

"It wasn't like that, Mike. Alice and I hid in Woolies when it all kicked off. He was torn between helping his mates or running away like a coward. He knew I'd be safe and it all worked out okay in the end."

"If you say so … he's still a tosser though. Don't forget, I was at school with him."

I'm too tired to argue so I repeat I'd let him know about the article in the morning and leave him to his writing. I fill the bath then strip off in my bedroom and wrap my dressing gown around me just in case Mike or dad spots me sprinting across the landing. I chuck in the last of the bath salts I got from one of my aunts for Christmas and lower myself into the steaming hot water. Instantly I feel my bones warming up for the first time since this morning.

As I lie in the tub staring at the cracked and peeling ceiling of our ancient bathroom, I'm thinking about what turned out to be a very eventful day. In a nutshell I practically froze to death, I touched a fully-grown penis for the first time, I almost ended up in the middle of a battle, I could have been arrested, and finally I had an encounter with a _man_ , not a boy, who was the sexiest thing on two legs I'd ever seen, _and_ he bore more than a striking resemblance to my Monday Man.

I close my eyes and re-live the moment when I made eye contact with the Rocker. It felt, just for a fraction of a second, as though the world had stopped spinning and we were the only people in the pub. Then the spell was broken and his face distorted into an unfriendly sneer, but he couldn't take back the look he gave me when I burst through the door, and I'm pretty certain it was a look of recognition.

When I'd retrieved Jake's scarf and walked really close to him, my body reacted to his presence like iron filings to a magnet, and I experienced for the first time in my life what it felt like to be physically 'turned on' by a member of the opposite sex. This had never happened to me before and it wasn't until I was back on Jake's scooter that I realised what I was feeling was lust, pure and simple.

I recall when Jake kissed me properly for the first time on the dance floor. My body had 'tingled' when he put his tongue in my mouth, but the feeling I had when I walked past the Rocker was totally different. My body had certainly 'tingled' again, but in a lot more places than before, and that in itself was surprising as I didn't realise girls 'tingled' _down_ _there_.

As I lie in the bath feeling totally relaxed, I imagine his face coming towards me from above and his mouth covering mine and his tongue finding its way between my lips and exploring my mouth. As I melt into his arms, his naked body covers my naked body and I give myself up to him, body and soul. I wrap my legs around his slim hips and feel him pressing against me and then ….

"Holy Shit!" I shout out as I'm jolted back to reality by someone banging on the bathroom door. It's dad.

"How long are you going to be in there Isabella? I need the toilet."

(Oh, one day, to live in a house with a separate loo).

"Okay dad. Give me five minutes," I yell back and then I sink under the water and hold my breath to calm myself down.

When I resurface, I quickly shampoo my hair then rinse it in clean water in the wash basin and wrap it in a towel then give dad a shout to say the bathroom is free and go back to my room. I lie on the bed and attempt to resurrect the fantasy I was having in the bath, but it's no good, the moment has gone. I can still see his face though, but then I realise that the face in my fantasy is not Monday Man's anymore, it's the Rocker's face, even though I'm convinced they're one and the same.

I glance at the clock beside my bed and it's nearly six. In fifteen hours' time I'll be outside the Express, no doubt talking to Sue and the other girls about the weekend. If I'm brave enough to look up at his window, I wonder whether he'll be there again looking down at me.

I curl myself into a ball on the bed as I can feel my body reacting to the thought of seeing him again. I'm excited by the thought that he may come to his window and one day he'll cross over the road and talk to me.

"That's never going to happen," I convince myself and then I'm jolted out of my daydream when mum shouts up the stairs that dinner's ready.

Mike and I meet on the landing and without thinking about it I say, "Okay, I'll help you with your article. Just give me one of your notebooks and I'll write some stuff down for you."

"Thanks, Sis," he says with a grin. "I owe you one."

"No you don't," I reply gratefully, and whisper in his ear, "Clacton, remember?"

* * *

 **So Eddie the Rocker has made an impression on Bella. On one hand she's 99% convinced he's the guy from Lyons, on the other she's wondering why he sneered at her and was aggressive this time. She's definitely confused.**

 **I hope you've enjoyed this chapter - it's back to work for Bella and Edward tomorrow. Will Edward be at the window waiting for her to arrive, or will he have the guts to hang out at her bus stop? You'll soon find out.**

FYI

 **Purple Hearts** are amphetamines and were the easily available drug of choice for Mods in the 1960's. They were a triangular purple-ish/blue tablet that was usually prescribed for depression, anxiety, and also as a diet pill. If taken in large doses they gave you excess energy and were used by club-goers to keep them on their feet dancing until two in the morning. I grew up in Ealing, West London, and the Mod club there was called The Blue Triangle. (For any Ealing readers it was behind the cinema opposite the Town Hall). It was only years later that I realised the connection and I'm amazed they got away with calling it that. I suppose the nearest equivalent drug that clubbers take now is Ecstasy.

 **Woolworths** or Woolies has now disappeared from British high streets, and I'm sure the whole population is still mourning the loss of the Pick 'n Mix counter, which was awesome (what was your favourite sweet; you can guess what mine was). They also had a counter for broken biscuits. How come everyone was so skinny back then? My first job was as a Saturday girl in Woolies - I got three shillings (15 pence) an hour for four hours when I was fourteen.

Joan xx


	10. Chapter 10

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 9**

Tuesday, 31st March 1964

 **Edward**

It's the first day back at work after the four-day weekend. I should be feeling rested, but actually I'm feeling the total opposite because I've been awake half the night thinking about Bella. Consequently I'm practically sleep-walking to the station, dreading the impending commute and not looking forward to spending the day cooped up in my office. The only good reason I had to drag myself out of bed this morning was my burning desire to see Bella arriving for work, so when I finally woke up in the shower I was beginning to accept I was behaving like an addict desperately anticipating his next fix.

Despite having several whiskies before I went to bed last night, I couldn't switch off my overloaded brain as I was re-living the events of yesterday, scene by every effing scene. In part I was trying to get my head around why the Rocker brotherhood is turning increasingly violent, which is not my idea of fun at all. But the majority of my night time thoughts were centered on my chance meeting with Bella; specifically the way she looked at me when she burst through the pub doors. In that split second when our eyes locked, we connected; there's absolutely no doubt about that.

This ridiculous obsession I have with her is starting to adversely affect my life. I don't know anything about her. I've never even spoken properly to her. Yet her face is haunting me to the point where I actually think I'm going mad. I've had many short-term relationships in the past, but no girl has ever affected me the way this girl has and it's starting to bother me. My life-plan doesn't include falling for someone at this moment in time. To be frank, this wasn't supposed to happen until I was about thirty-five.

At least I know her name now. Referring to her as my 'brown haired girl' was frustrating. Now I know how to address her, my adolescent fantasies have taken on a different script as I can make up conversations with her in my dreams. I still haven't got over the shock of making eye-contact with her again, and wonder whether my defensive reaction to her moment of recognition was enough to convince her that the Rocker sneering at her wasn't the weird guy from Fleet Street who leers at her at every opportunity.

I've gone over and over in my mind why I reacted to her in that way and put it down to an automatic defensive mechanism I have which hides anything to do with the 'Edward Cullen' side of my life from my Rocker buddies. To them I'm just Eddie from West London; that's all they need to know. I'm not interested in their private lives and they never ask me about mine. But I'm definitely feeling guilty for causing the shocked look on her face when I fronted her up, and I cringe at the memory. I also feel bad that I frightened her when she was on the back of Jake the Jerk's scooter, even though I hope he's taken on board my threat to his life if he ever puts her in danger again.

After my contemplative walk to the station, I'm greeted by a ridiculously long queue to get on the platform, coupled with a mob of very angry commuters who are not appreciative of a stressful start to their working week. London Transport has put up a sign informing passengers that the Circle Line isn't running this morning, which means that everyone will be forced onto the District Line instead. The harassed staff are controlling access to the platforms for safety reasons and I know from experience that when I make it onto a train, the carriage will be rammed to the point of being dangerous. I curse London Transport to Hell, because it's now inevitable I won't be at my window when Bella arrives this morning and I've been counting the hours until I see her again.

As I wait in the chilly morning air outside the station, I'm getting more and more agitated at the thought of not seeing her for another few hours. As the frustration builds, added to the fact that the queue hasn't moved for at least five minutes, I make a snap decision. "Sod this, I'm getting a taxi," I say to myself, as my totally irrational and absurd desperation to be at my window when she gets off the bus means I _have_ to be there no matter what the cost. I see a black cab in the distance with the hiring light on, so I leap into the road to hail it and thankfully the cabbie spots me jumping up and down like a lunatic.

Before I clamber in I shout out to the queue, "Any of you guys going to Blackfriars and want to share the cost of a cab with me?"

Three hands shoot up and two men who work in Farringdon and a woman who works in the Cathedral join me. We have a whip round for the fare then chat amongst ourselves about the dismal service provided by London Transport. Our knowledgeable cabbie jumps into the conversation at this point and informs us that engineers were working non-stop over Easter to upgrade defective track but were delayed because of finding an unexploded bomb near to where they were working. This is not an unusual occurrence in London as the City and the docks were one of the main targets for the Luftwaffe during the Blitz. So instead of cursing London Transport to Hell as before, my three travelling companions and I vent our wrath on the Nazis and the Luftwaffe for the inconvenience this has caused.

The taxi drops us off at the junction of Fleet Street and Ludgate Hill and I jog the final two hundred yards or so to my office. I glance at my watch as I'm running and see it's already five to nine. I'm almost certain I've missed her anyway but at least I won't be late for work. I'm annoyed and disappointed but have to resign myself to wait until lunchtime which is only three and a half hours away.

I reach my building and put my fingers on the door handle, but before entering I take a last look up and down the street then glance at the steps in front of the Express to double-check that she hasn't gone in yet. None of the usual crowd of girls are there, but inside the foyer, in the same position as before, is the shadow of a girl and I'm a hundred percent certain it's Bella as I recognise her coat. As soon as she sees me looking she turns and disappears out of sight.

I stand for a moment with my cold fingers clutching an even colder door handle and I'm unable to move from the spot. I need to digest the significance of the fact that she was waiting to see me and also her reaction when I looked for her, _before_ I walk through the door and have to deal with Jane or Margaret and whatever else is waiting for me. I wonder what's going through her head right now and whether she's thinking the same about me. In other words is she hoping this cat and mouse game we're playing will come to anything, or doesn't she want this, and she just thinks I'm being weird? I know I'm going to have to speak to her soon, but how I'm going to orchestrate a meeting is beyond me.

I bring myself back to reality and step inside our warm reception area leaving those unanswered questions behind me. Jane has actually beaten me to work today so I'll have to suffer the indignity of her staring at my arse again, but at least I have my long coat on this morning. She greets me with a cheery smile and asks whether I've had a nice weekend.

"Great thanks, how about you?" I reply automatically, but actually I'm not really paying attention because I'm still thinking about Bella.

"Okay I suppose. Ate too many Easter Eggs as usual but who cares? Most fella's like to have something to grab hold of, don't they, Mr Cullen?"

"That's apparently so, Jane. Anyway, mustn't stand here chatting. I'm sure Mr Jenks has lots of work for me to do today."

I head for the stairs and walk up the first few steps knowing she's watching my every move. As soon as I'm out of sight I hear her audibly sigh, which is flattering I suppose, but also embarrassing to know a member of staff is fantasising about a certain part of my anatomy. I suppose it could be worse.

Mr Jenks calls to me as I'm creeping past his door, which unusually is ajar. I was hoping he wouldn't notice that I'm later than usual but no such luck.

"Edward, could you come in here please," he calls out, so I dump my coat and briefcase in my office and walk into his room wondering what he needs me for. I'm not nervous in his presence as I know he thinks the sun shines out of my backside, so I'm confident he hasn't called me in to have a go at me.

Jenks and my father were at Oxford together. They are similar ages and Jenks is aware of my privileged background, but as far as I know he has never discussed this with anyone else in the firm. I'm sure they've all put two and two together though as there aren't many Cullen's around, and in the legal world I'm sure we're the only ones. Having a famous father is both a blessing and a curse.

To say Jenks was shocked when I applied for the position here just over two years ago would be the understatement of the year. He actually tried to talk me out of the job, saying I would be ostracized by the legal hierarchy to which I was born into, but I assured him this was exactly why I was attracted to his firm. Nevertheless, he took me on and consequently got an ear-bashing from my father as a result, but he keeps assuring me he has never had any regrets about his decision.

He points to the seat opposite his desk so I sit down and wait to hear the reason why I've been summoned.

"Are you busy at the moment?" he asks.

"Apart from a mountain of paperwork and the usual interviews with clients already booked in, not really. I haven't got any court appearances for a while, so nothing I can't put off. Why?"

"I need to take some time off this week. I'd planned to be at the tribunal tomorrow for the dock workers' first hearing but I'm not going to be around. I want you to cover for me. I'm guessing the case will last two days at least, maybe three or four if their barrister is a twerp or the judge is being pedantic."

"Are you sure?" I ask and I know I sound surprised as I'm the most inexperienced lawyer in the firm. "What about John, or Simon. Wouldn't they be more appropriate? This case is the biggest one we've handled in a long time. It could lead to strikes in the future."

"Don't you think you're good enough yet, Edward?" Jenks raises his eyebrows as he questions me, but I spot a twinkle in his eye and I know this is a challenge.

"I'm good enough, Sir, but I'm surprised you're offering me this responsibility so soon."

"Do you want it?"

"Absolutely, but I'll need to dump my work for today and go through all the paperwork. I know the bare bones of the case, but not enough to be able to confidently defend these men in front of a tribunal judge."

Jenks pushes three box-files towards me with a grin. "I'll tell Margaret to hold all your calls today and keep you supplied with tea and biscuits. I'll be leaving at four, so if you need to ask me anything just come in. I'll leave my door open."

I stand up feeling a bit wobbly and pick the files up.

"Thanks for the opportunity, Sir. Hopefully I won't let you or the firm down in court."

Jenks gives me a fatherly smile and waves me away. "I know you won't, Edward, and don't worry, I'm not expecting you to win this time. Just make their case fairly and succinctly. Everything we do from now on will be brought up again when the strikes start happening. These dock workers have got the full weight of the establishment against them, so just do your best and we'll discuss what happens when I get back next week."

"Can I ask why you need time off, Sir?"

"I'd rather not say anything at the moment, Edward. It's a personal matter and I'll fill you in when I can, but not yet. Okay?"

"Okay, Sir, and thanks again."

I carry the files to my office and can't help smiling when I see that already waiting for me on the desk is a giant mug of tea and two Blue Ribands, which are my absolute favourite biscuits. I guess Jenks had already alerted Margaret and asked her to keep me happy today. By that I'm presuming my boss wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer.

I clear my desk of all my other files and open the first box. As I pull out a thick sheaf of papers I sigh. This is such an important case which could have serious implications for manual workers and Trades Unions across the country. Dock workers from the Port of London have been threatened with the sack for refusing to accept new contracts which would seriously reduce their wages and affect their employment rights. Ten of the men have put themselves forward as test-cases, even though they can guarantee they'll be the first in line to be given either a replacement contract or no work if they lose this case.

In a nutshell, the dock's management board are seeking to employ their workers on a casual basis only in future, rather than paying them a guaranteed weekly salary as now. The managers assert they often have more labour than is needed when the docks are quiet, or if ships are delayed coming in to port, which adversely affects their profits. The dockers claim they will still have to be available for work, all day, every day, which prevents them from seeking additional employment when the docks are quiet. Most of them are husbands and fathers and therefore need a regular income to meet their commitments, but the managers are saying that's not their problem and have appointed high-flying barristers to present their case to the employment tribunal.

Mr Jenks and I know that if management win this case, this will open the floodgates for other companies to treat their employees in the same way. I can also guarantee the Trades Unions will not take this lying down as they have already threatened strike action if they lose. So a great deal hangs on whether the tribunal takes the management side, which is usually the case. I'll know how it's going to go as soon I see which judge is presiding, as some sections of the judiciary haven't moved on from Tolpuddle. "No pressure then," I say to myself as I bite a sizeable chunk out of my first Blue Riband.

When Margaret brings me my next mug of tea and some Penguins this time, she looks at me sympathetically as I must already look worn out. I wasn't in the best shape when I arrived at work this morning to start with because of my restless night thinking about my encounter with Bella and the fight in Clacton. If I'd known what Jenks was going to throw at me this morning, maybe I would have had a quieter weekend in preparation. What's done is done though, so I thank Margaret and ask her to keep the tea coming on a regular basis.

As the morning hours slip by, I admit I'm keeping my eye on the clock as the time ticks towards twelve-thirty, which is when I'm expecting Bella to appear on the steps. The last few minutes are torture but I'm rewarded when she emerges from the foyer with some of the other girls then wanders off on her own as usual. I'm willing her to look up at my window, but she keeps her head down and her eyes on the pavement, almost as though she's purposely trying to avoid seeing me, which is nuts, I know. I'm disappointed that I haven't seen her face again, but to be honest I don't need any distractions at the moment. I have to concentrate on the job in hand so I turn away from the window and carry on ploughing through the paperwork.

I miss Bella coming back from lunch as I have to go in with Jenks to talk to him about one aspect of the case I'm not clear about, but I'll make sure I'm at my desk when she leaves for home tonight. Maybe this will be my last opportunity to see her until the middle of next week and that thought depresses me. Margaret carries on plying me with tea and biscuits and I continue working diligently until I hear Jenks leaving at four. He puts his head around my door and wishes me good luck then disappears to sort out whatever is so urgent that he's unable to present the most important case to have come to our firm for possibly the last ten years.

Margaret makes me a last cup of tea before she goes home so I stop for a break and turn my chair so I can watch Bella leaving for the day. The girls who work with her begin appearing one by one and go off in different directions, but there's no Bella. I've just given up hope of seeing her when she suddenly appears on the steps, but instead of walking away from the building like the others, she stands on the top step and stares directly at my window.

I'm in a quandary what to do. Do I stay in the shadows, crouched in my chair pretending I'm not here, or do I stand up and let her know I've seen her? Four seconds, eight seconds, ten seconds go by, then I take a deep breath for courage and stand … and slowly walk towards the window.

I see her shoulders jump so I know she's spotted me but she carries on staring without any change in her fixed expression for what seems like an eternity but is probably only about another ten seconds, then she looks down at the ground and shakes her head. She carries on walking down the steps and away from the building before breaking into a dainty run as she's seen her bus coming. I continue watching her as she crosses the road then she jumps on the bus that's waited for her.

I'm still standing at the window but now with my palms flat against the glass as the bus passes by. I stare at the lumbering red vehicle until it's out of sight then I turn away from the window and stagger towards my chair and collapse into it.

As I take in what's just happened, I come to the embarrassing conclusion that Bella, my slightly built, delicate, beautiful brown eyed girl, has balls, in that she fronted me out, like I did to her in the pub. She taunted me. She said to me as clearly as if she'd shouted out loud, "I'm here; what are you going to do about it?" And I did nothing.

I could've responded. I could've waved. I could've mouthed something at her, like "Hello", but I didn't, which is probably why she shook her head in despair.

"You fucking idiot," I say out loud and I'm angry with myself, but there's no convenient Easter Egg to smash to a pulp this time, just a pile of paperwork I wouldn't mind tossing across the room, but I don't. Instead I try and concentrate on going over the notes I've made and I make more notes on top of my original notes and then read and re-read the contents of the third box-file until I'm satisfied I've got my head around the case. "At least I've got my head around something," I muse as the rest of my world is in chaos.

I work until just before seven in the evening, and leave at the same time as our cleaner, Joy, who's kicking me out as she wants to lock up. I wish her goodnight and make my way slowly towards Blackfriars station, where thankfully the Circle Line has been declared bomb-free. I can now make my way home safely without any further dramas caused by London Transport or the Luftwaffe.

As I walk the half mile from High Street Ken to my home, it occurs to me that if Bella looks up at my window tomorrow, or at any time during the next few days, I won't be there. She'll probably presume I'm not playing this game anymore and I'm not interested in her, and I involuntarily shudder at the thought as I don't want her to have that impression, but I can't do anything about it now. I'll be in the office at eight tomorrow to pick up the files and will be in my seat at the tribunal at nine, and will probably not see the light of day until about six.

"Just my sodding luck," I say to myself as I open the door to my house and I mentally kick myself for not giving her some sort of acknowledgement when I was at the window.

"Next time, grow some balls, Edward Anthony Masen-Cullen, you spineless wanker," I say out loud as I throw my briefcase on the floor.

"Who's a spineless wanker?" a female voice asks from upstairs and I jump with shock, but I recognise whose voice it is straight away.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I say quite rudely as the culprit comes to the top of the stairs.

"That's a charming way to speak to your sister, Edward. Why bother giving me a key if you don't want me to come over and surprise you occasionally."

"Sorry," I reply feeling slightly guilty.

"Where the hell _have_ you been?" she asks accusingly. "I thought you finished work earlier than this. Anyway, I've made you dinner; at least you could be grateful for that."

"I am grateful," I say as I pull my coat off and hang it on the hook by the door. "I had to work late as I'm presenting a case tomorrow so I'll have to leave here at seven in the morning. How long are you staying?"

"Two or three days, if that's alright? I'm trying to avoid going home."

I laugh as I know exactly how she feels but I still need the details.

"I know I'm going to regret asking this, but why?"

"I didn't turn up for dinner on Easter Sunday and our dear mother is on the warpath. I genuinely didn't know you weren't going down either so she's seriously pissed with both of us. I'm staying clear until Friday at least. Are you going there straight from work?"

"I honestly don't know. This tribunal may run on to next week, so I might not get down there until Saturday morning. I'll have to come back straight after the party if that's the case, because I'll need to prepare for Monday. Anyway, where the hell were you over the Easter weekend?"

"Promise you won't say."

"Yeah, yeah, promise."

"Aldermaston."

"What! You marched from Aldermaston to London? When did you suddenly get interested in CND and Banning the Bomb?"

"Well, we camped out at Aldermaston on Good Friday but we couldn't march this year. The police stopped us and the organisers advised us not to try in the end. We all made our way to London separately and met up in Trafalgar Square on Monday for the rally."

"How did you get there, Sis? You haven't got a car."

"We hitch-hiked."

"Jesus, that's dangerous. Who were you with?"

"Just some girls I know from Uni. We thought it'd be a laugh and it was. I totally agree with CND though."

"You need to meet my mate, Emmett. He's in to all that shit."

"Is he the American one?"

"Yes, but don't mention him to anyone as he's not supposed to be in the country. He'll go to prison for being a draft-dodger if he gets sent back to America now."

"Okay, my lips are sealed. Anyway, who were you calling a wanker when you came in?"

"It's a long story, Rosie. Maybe I'll tell you one day."

"Alright Edward, keep it to yourself. Now go and get that boring suit off and I'll sort dinner out."

As we pass on the stairs, I give Rosalie a hug and a kiss. Despite wanting to kill each other for most of our teenage years, she was fast becoming my best non-biking friend, and I contemplated whether I should ask her advice about Bella but decide against it. I need to sort this out by myself.

I quickly get changed and go down to the kitchen where Rosie is dishing up chicken and baked potatoes which is just what I need. As we sit at my tiny breakfast bar to eat, she says,

"Tell me more about your friend, Emmett. I wouldn't mind meeting him."

I seriously consider it for a second, but as I put a piece of chicken in my mouth, I choke when I consider the implications of them meeting.

First of all, Rosie is blonde (his preferred hair colour), highly intelligent and a CND supporter.

Emmett is handsome (apparently), intelligent (very), American (unusually) and a pacifist.

So, if they ever meet, they're going to be like magnets.

However …

There's no way Emmett McCarty is going anywhere near my sister with a dick that size!

* * *

 **Bella**

The Tuesday morning commute is a nightmare because my bus has to be re-routed because of an unexploded bomb somewhere in the City. The army has been forced to close off several roads near to the Express building so I end up walking the last quarter-mile to Fleet Street otherwise I would never have got to work on time. Our money gets docked if you're late whether it's your fault or not, which is a bit of a cheek really but that's the way it is.

It's obvious some of the girls haven't been able to get here yet as only Sue and two other girls are outside on the pavement when I arrive. I can't help it, but my eyes are immediately drawn to his window as soon as I get there but there's no light on in his office. I presume he's been caught up in the mayhem as well, so I turn away and listen to the girls' chit-chat about the weekend while trying to avoid their cigarette smoke.

I follow them into the foyer but decide to wait until the absolute last minute before going to the cloakroom to hang my coat up. I make an excuse to Sue and tell the others to go on ahead while I keep watch on his building. I've been standing by the doors for less than a minute when I see him jogging along the road looking at his watch. I quickly walk backwards a couple of steps ensuring I'm away from the glass as I don't want him to see me. As he puts his hand on the door handle he turns around and looks up and down the road and then his eyes fix on my building and he's staring directly at the spot where I'm standing. I know he's searching for me, but I'm confident he won't be able to make out that the person in the foyer is the girl he's looking for. My curiosity is satisfied so I turn away and walk quickly to the cloakroom and then to my desk.

"What was all that about," Sue hisses at me.

"I'll tell you later," I whisper as I plug in the Dictaphone, and for the next three and a half hours I concentrate on my job.

Lunchtime comes and I go out for my usual walk. The weather is cool and breezy but the fresh air rejuvenates me, even though the traffic fumes means the air is not that 'fresh' at all. Whatever, it's better than sitting indoors all day. I love the City of London, with its grand, solid buildings and beautiful churches and synagogues that have been there for centuries. There's also a hidden London that exists behind the imposing facades which I find fascinating, and occasionally I discover a new alleyway that leads to a secret courtyard that's been trapped in an Edwardian or Victorian time warp. When this happens, I write what I've found in my notebook, but it's not just the location of my discovery I record. It's the sounds I hear echoing around the enclosed spaces, and the unexpected scents and smells of London, like baking bread or stale alcohol, or the feral cats that dive for cover when I enter their quiet haven. These are magical places which the ordinary folk of London rarely see and for me it's like walking back in time and I love it. I like to imagine that one day I'll write a book about this secret side of London, but I guess this will never happen.

I eat my sandwich sitting in the peaceful grounds of an old church, and for a moment I feel cut off from the world. I know I'm lucky living and working in the City, but I'm just an insignificant part of this monolith which allegedly controls a huge part of the post-war free world. I'm only a few steps away from some of the highest people in the land, such as bankers, lawyers, captains of industry, politicians and the aristocracy. The only time I ever see them though is when an expensive looking car draws up in front of a building, then a chauffeur gets out and opens the rear door and a totally unrecognisable man or occasionally a woman appears and is ushered into a building. I realise then I've been in the presence of someone important, but I've no idea who it is. My dad probably would as he's into politics and all that, but at the moment I'm not really interested.

I wander back to the office and I'm thinking about my Monday Man and the Rocker again. I admit I'm subconsciously looking around all the time just in case he's out on the street as well, but if I saw him I'd probably run and hide, even though I'm desperate to talk to him. I decide to tempt fate and walk past the door of his building to see if there's a name plaque outside, which might give me an indication of what he does for a living. I know I'm being nosey, but what the hell. I've nothing to lose unless he catches me, in which case I'd be mortified.

I turn the corner into Fleet Street and walk as close as possible to the buildings, which will keep me out of sight if he's looking out the window. I sidle up to his door and see the words J JENKS and some legal jargon written in gold letters on the glass, which means he's either a lawyer or some sort of administrator. My curiosity satisfied, I wait for a gap in the traffic then dash across the road and into my building, but I still stop once I'm inside and look back at his window, but he's not there.

When I stroll into the typing pool, Mrs Black (I've stopped calling her Eva Braun), signals me to come over to her desk. I presume she has more tapes for me but I'm wrong.

"Bella, can you stay behind for a few minutes after work tonight?" she asks. "Don't panic, you haven't done anything wrong dear," she adds, so I nod my head and say okay.

Sue's eyebrows are raised when I sit down. "What's that all about?" she asks.

"I don't know," I reply, even though I suspect it's about Jake. "She wants to talk to me after work. I'll tell you why tomorrow."

I work diligently until it's time to go then wait for the others to leave before speaking to Mrs. Black. She smiles at me kindly as I approach and tells me to sit down for a moment.

"Bella, I know you're seeing Jacob at the moment and I just wanted you to know that I'm okay with this. If or when you two break up one day, because teenage romances usually end that way, I'm not going to hold it against you."

"Oh! Right," I say and I know I'm blushing. "Thanks," I add and stand up ready to leave.

"That's not all," she says and then hands me a large, plain envelope. "In here is an application form for the vacant secretary position. I made a recommendation to management that you deserved a promotion long before you started seeing Jacob, so please be assured you're being invited to apply on your own merit. You're an excellent typist and a smart girl. You shouldn't be wasting your life in a typing pool."

"Thank you Mrs Black," I blurt out as I'm truly stunned. "I'm very grateful you've given me this opportunity. I'll fill this in tonight."

"You're welcome, Bella. By the way, have you told any of the other girls that you're seeing my son?"

"No, I haven't. I thought I'd better keep it under my hat for the moment."

"Good girl; let's keep it that way. Now off you go and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thanks Mrs Black. Goodnight."

I stumble out the door because my knees are shaking because of what has just happened. I stare at the envelope as I still can't believe it then collect my coat from the cloakroom. As I carefully fold the precious envelope into my bag, I want to scream I'm so happy. This is my first step towards a proper job. A chance to use my brain instead of just my eyes, ears and fingers. An opportunity to progress with my life at last. I wonder what Sue and the others will say about this as I'm one of the youngest in the typing pool, but frankly I don't care. This is the first rung on the ladder and I'm going to jump on it with both feet.

Armed with a new sense of purpose I stride through the exit doors and stop on the top step and instantly the world looks totally different than it did this morning. As I breathe in the sweet smell of success, (even though I haven't got the job yet), I feel confident and brave; in fact brave enough to look directly at that darned building across the street. My eyes snap up to the window but it's blank, but the light is on which means he's in there. I wait for eight, nine, ten seconds, but nothing happens. I'm just about to give up, when I see movement and I can't help jumping in surprise.

I hold my breath when I see him approaching the window but he stares straight at me, his face totally expressionless. He's got no jacket on this time, just a plain white shirt with a blue striped tie that's loose at the collar. Even from across the street I can feel the intensity of his eyes burning into me as though he's searching my mind. I'm willing him to wave, or mouth a 'hello', or just smile, or do _anything_ to acknowledge my presence, but there's no attempt at communication at all and I'm disappointed. I wait for another ten seconds or so then give up on him and skip down the steps because I can see my bus coming. I dash across the road as soon as I'm able and jog to the stop where the kindly bus conductor has held off ringing the bell so I can get on.

The bus moves away and I can still see him standing at the window watching me and I wonder what's going through his mind. As I settle into my seat, I smile to myself because my Monday Man actually got out of his chair and came to the window so I could see him. Even though he didn't physically acknowledge me, we definitely connected when we locked eyes and I'm glad I had the nerve to invite him to make contact. He's intrigued, I know it, so what happens next? I've hit the ball into his court so maybe he'll hit it back to me tomorrow.

As the bus turns the corner and his building disappears from view, the famous line that Scarlett O'Hara uttered at the end of Gone with the Wind comes into my mind.

 _"After all, tomorrow is another day."_

And I just can't wait.

* * *

 **Edward needs to grow some, but remember all this is new to him. He's never had to work at a relationship or even try getting a girl before, but don't worry, he'll have another opportunity soon.**

 **Life is improving for Bella on the career front; she just needs to sort her love-life out now. Why the hell is she still with Jake if Mr Sex-on-Legs is occupying her thoughts?**

FYI

While I was writing this, on March 2nd 2017, an **unexploded WWII bomb** was discovered in Brondesbury Park in North West London (I had already written this chapter by the way). It's unusual to find them now, but back then it was a regular occurrence, not just in London but also in most of the major cities in the country, and of course all over Europe. The authorities reckon that the Thames is littered with UEB's, but there's no point seeking them out as the chances of any of them exploding is negligible. The **Blitz** (from the German word Blitzkreig meaning 'lightning war') is the name used for the intense saturation bombing of London during the war, specifically between 1940 and 1941.

Industrial action in the **Docks** was brewing in the early 1960's but came to a head in the late 60's. The management could foresee containerisation happening in the not too distant future and wanted to prepare for a radical change in how the docks were run. More importantly, the industrial barons wanted to put the Unions and the Labour Party in a bad light prior to the Election and they could do this by stirring up trouble. The case I've mentioned is not a real one, but an example of what was going on at the time. With an impending Election in the autumn, any industrial action would be helpful to the Tories, so unrest was being cultivated not just in the docks but in other parts of industry as well. A dock strike would be disastrous for the country's economy, so winning this case was very important.

 **Tolpuddle** is effectively the birthplace of the Trades Union movement in the UK. In 1834, six farm workers from Tolpuddle in Dorset, formed a secret Union because their pay was being cut every year. They were arrested and shipped out to Australia for seven years hard labour and were not expected to survive the sentence. After they were sent away, the working classes rose up in protest and formed Unions all over the country. In the end, the government of the day capitulated and brought the men home after three years. These six men were hailed as heroes and from then on were referred to as the Tolpuddle Martys.

The village of **Aldermaston** was/is still the home of the UK's Atomic Weapons Establishment, so was the obvious focus of the Anti-Nuclear demonstrations started in the 1950's by one woman, Mary Harrison, who walked the route from there to London in protest. The **CND** march from Aldermaston to Trafalgar Square was a regular occurrence over the Easter Weekend from then on. The Easter march in 1964 was cancelled for various reasons, but mainly because there had been a lot of trouble on the march in 1963 because of the Cuban missile crisis, so the organisers just held the rally in Trafalgar Square as usual.

I hope you're all enjoying the little snippets of British history. Thanks for the feedback from those who are - I'm really enjoying hearing yours (or your parents') memories of this time.

In the next chapter, they finally meet and talk at last! (hooray).

Joan xx


	11. Chapter 11

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 10**

Wednesday 1st April, 1964

 **Bella**

I stayed up really late last night and it's showing in my face this morning. My eyes have dark circles under them and I know I look as though I've spent the night partying, but after I'd had my dinner I hardly came out of my bedroom. Firstly, I had to fill in the application form for Mrs Black, (mum was so excited when I told her about the secretary's job), then I fulfilled my promise to Mike and wrote about being a Mod and what I'd witnessed and heard afterwards about the confrontation with the Rockers in Clacton.

Once I started writing about the Mod culture and what it was all about, the words just flowed out of me. I started on the clothes we wear, which even the most teenage-hating 'grown-ups' would have to admit are smart and actually quite modest compared to what some youngsters wear nowadays. For example, the girls always look neat and tidy in smart skirts or dresses, or occasionally slim-fitting slacks. The boys wear mohair suits or tailored trousers with either a good quality polo shirt or a proper cotton shirt and tie when they're going out. Hardly what you would call rebellious clothing, unless adults consider the olive-green parka's the boys wear are symbols of being part of a gang or a tribe.

I wrote about the types of music we play in the clubs and our liking for anything from the new Tamla Motown record label and any other American or British soul singers. Also we're growing to love the West Indian Ska and Bluebeat music that sadly is never played on the radio; even the new pirate stations are ignoring it. I make the point that because Mods like what is considered to be 'black' music, our clubs attract youngsters from immigrant families, which in turn helps integrate them into our society.

Then I wrote about our scooters and how some of the boys had customised them to look different and this interest had led to them taking up apprenticeships in motor mechanics. I stressed the fact that the majority of us had proper jobs or were at college, so we weren't the nasty layabouts the press liked to label us.

Then I wrote about Clacton, and the fact we'd just gone there for a day out on the beach. We'd been confronted by a large group of armed Rockers who were looking for trouble, and even though we weren't entirely innocent, we'd been blamed for most of what happened.

By the time I'd finished writing everything I wanted to say, it was gone midnight and my hand was aching and my eyes were out on stalks. I slipped Mike's notepad under his door hoping my efforts would help him put together his article as I wanted him to show the Mods in a good light. I could hear him snoring, so I guessed he wouldn't read it until the morning so I would have to wait to hear his reaction when I got home from work.

When I arrive on the steps, I glance up at his window but my Monday Man isn't there. Sue is hopping up and down as she's desperate to know what happened with Mrs Black last night, so I tell her about the secretary's job but ask her not to say anything to anyone yet. She promises faithfully and I trust her not to gossip, but I'm still not ready to tell her about Jake being Mrs Black's son.

I go out for a walk at lunchtime but again he's not there and when I leave in the evening his office is in darkness. Jake took me out on Wednesday evening and we had a double-date with Alice and Jaz which was nice. We just went to a pub for a drink then Jake dropped me home and we had a snog out of view of my house. If he was hoping for the same passion as before I'm sure he was disappointed, but he didn't comment on my lack of engagement; he just said he'd pick me up on Friday and we'd go to The Roxy as usual.

On Thursday morning and at lunchtime I look up at the window and he's still not there, but when he doesn't show again in the evening, I take it as a clear sign he's not interested in carrying on with our game and I begin to think that probably when I stared him out it frightened the daylights out of him. I'm sad because it was a bit of fun and to be honest I enjoyed the attention, but Greek Gods aren't interested in mere mortals like me, so I'll have to try and put him out of my mind, even though it will be really difficult.

I hadn't seen Mike at all since I pushed the notes for his article under the door, but he was at home when I got in. I went upstairs to get out of my work clothes before dinner and he called me into his room. He looked a bit perturbed and I asked him what was up.

"Bella," he said, and his voice sounded curious, like he was talking to someone he'd only just been introduced to. "Those notes you wrote …."

"Wasn't that what you wanted," I interrupted and he must have picked up on the disappointment in my voice because he looked surprised. "I worked bloody hard on pulling it all together without much notice and even if my ramblings aren't helpful, a bit of appreciation is expected," I huffed.

"Yes, it was exactly what I wanted, but …"

"But what, Mike?"

"But you wrote the _whole_ _article_. When I read it, I knew it was infinitely better than anything I could've written so I showed it to my boss."

"You did WHAT?"

"I showed it to my boss, Bella, and he thought it was amazing too, so he's going to print every word of it. Also, he wants to meet you."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious. I told him you worked full time at the Express in the typing pool, so he's asked me to ask whether you could see him on Saturday morning before he goes to the match. Will you meet him?"

"Why does he want to see me? Is he going to offer me a job with the paper?"

"I don't know, but he wants me to come with you. What do you think?"

"I don't know, Mike. My boss has just put me forward for a secretary's job which would be a promotion. Oh jeepers. Why the heck does this have to happen to me now?"

I think quickly about Mike's proposition and decide there's no harm in me listening to what his editor has to say, so I agree to go. Mike explained that my article was going to be printed anonymously as he told his boss my name couldn't be associated with it as mum and dad were still in the dark about me going to Clacton.

I have difficulty getting to sleep that night as I'm trying to guess why the editor wants to see me, which takes my mind off my Monday Man, who I've accepted is never going to be 'my' man anytime soon. I take the difficult decision not to allow myself to look at his window again and to concentrate my efforts on Jake and my career. But as I finally drift off to sleep I'm excited to think that Bella Swan's prospects are definitely looking up.

* * *

 **Edward - Friday 3rd April 1964**

I have to stand on the Circle Line as usual, but this morning it seems as though I'm just a few inches taller than my fellow passengers, as I'm still revelling in my success at the tribunal.

Yesterday, at the end of the second day of the hearing, the judge, who funnily enough was the first female judge I'd ever come up before, threw the management's case out the window and told their barristers in no uncertain terms, that they should go back to law school and re-take the classes devoted to contract law and employees' rights. Fortunately this part of my law degree was the one I'd excelled in and I'd torn their chinless upper-class legal expert to shreds when he started quoting selected pieces of _old_ laws which had been repealed thirty years ago. This was when I realised our side was definitely going to win.

After the tribunal, I was frogmarched from the building by the dock workers and their Union reps to a nearby pub where a serious amount of alcohol was consumed and I didn't have to put my hand in my pocket once. They then all clubbed together and paid for a taxi to take me home, which was jolly decent of them and reinforced my belief that the less well-off are the most generous people in the world. I woke up this morning with a slightly sore head but the feeling of elation will probably stay with me a lot longer than my hangover.

I'm greeted with slaps on the back and lots of 'well done's' from my colleagues when I arrive at the office. John and Simon have been surprisingly magnanimous about Jenks' decision to send me instead of them, so I'm grateful for their generous support. Jenks still hasn't returned from wherever he is, so at least I can put off giving him a report on the hearing until Monday, which will give me a chance to get over the headache. Because of the welcome party, I've missed seeing Bella arrive this morning, but I can just about cope without my drug for another few hours.

There's no cup of tea waiting for me so I presume Margaret must be too busy this morning. I'm not desperate for a drink as I consumed at least a pint of water and a large mug of coffee for medicinal purposes before I left for work, so I settle down at my desk and gaze in resignation at the original mountain of files that have magically reappeared while I've been away. Margaret has stacked them in order of priority and has helpfully left little notes attached to them indicating what needs to be done first. This is the tedious part of my job, but at least I haven't got any court days in the diary for the next week or so, which admittedly breaks the monotony. After the excitements of this week, monotony will do just fine for today and for the foreseeable future.

I work my way through the pile but my eyes constantly stray across to the Express building, even though I know there's no chance of seeing her until lunchtime. As the morning goes by, I notice that the natural light outside is starting to fade and the sky is getting darker by the minute, which means it's going to chuck down with rain very soon. This irritates me no end because this may result in Bella not wanting to go out for lunch.

I lean over my desk and switch on my reading lamp and sure enough, I hear the first raindrops hitting the window pane. Very soon after, a violent storm sweeps across London, accompanied by crashing thunder and spectacular lightning that's directly overhead. I used to hate storms as a child but I love them now, especially the aftermath when there's an eerie yellow light and a stillness in the air, and everything glows as though it has been heated by electricity.

As I'm pulling the next file off the pile there's a terrific bang, louder than all the others. My lamp goes out immediately afterwards and I hear Jane scream from downstairs. I can also hear Simon cursing from his office, so I presume the same has happened to his lamp and everything else on the ring. I get up to see if the main overhead light is working but that's dead too. It's obvious something has happened to the whole of our power supply, which probably means the electricity sub-station has been hit by lightning.

I look out the window to see whether I can see any evidence of lights in any of the offices along Fleet Street, but every window is in darkness. I take a look in the other direction and can just see into the road where Lyons sits on the corner. Those shops look like they're okay, which means they must be getting their supply from another source.

There's so much water falling from the heavens by now that the roads have become rivers and the traffic has come to a standstill. The storm rages for about another twenty minutes and then it becomes noticeably brighter outside as the first chinks of sunlight appear through the clouds, making the puddles of rain on my window ledge sparkle. The last rumbles of thunder are only just audible so I open my window and drink in the smell of the rain. The fresh scent brings back vivid memories of my childhood, specifically making camps in the garden with Rosie and our cousin when we were all home from our boarding schools. We would take shelter from the elements under thick pieces of cardboard piled high with twigs and branches, and pretend not to be frightened of the storms.

The city is saturated now and the waterlogged drains are bubbling as they've been unable to cope with the influx of so much water at once. Lakes have formed where the pavements are uneven and any cars travelling along the road are moving at a dead slow pace to avoid flooding their engines or spraying brave pedestrians with water. The deluge has ceased but the rain has now morphed into solitary but sizeable droplets which bounce off whatever they hit first. Eventually the downpour becomes a fine drizzle, leaving behind a sparkling city that has been temporarily cleansed of the filth and grime which gives London its grey appearance.

I work for another hour then look at the clock and I'm surprised to see it's already gone twelve and I haven't had any tea all morning. Margaret usually brings me up a cup between ten thirty and eleven, but I've been working so hard I didn't notice the time. I wander downstairs to see where she is and if there's any hot water left in the kettle to make myself and anyone else a drink. Jane looks up as I appear.

"Is Margaret in her office?" I ask.

"She's sick," Jane replies. "She called in this morning to say she hurt her back lifting her mother. She's got a doctor's appointment this afternoon."

"Okay, well give her my best wishes if she calls again."

I'd never known Margaret to take a day off sick so she must be bad. I also didn't know she looked after her mother which must be tough. I make a mental note to find out more about her situation when she returns and ask whether there is anything I can do to help.

I go into the small kitchenette but the electric kettle is empty and the two-ringed hob is cold. Also, because Margaret isn't here, there's no milk in the now de-frosted fridge so there's no chance of getting a hot drink. I'm actually quite thirsty by now so decide to go out to get something if the power doesn't come back on soon, but I'll wait until it stops raining.

I hear the phone ring in Margaret's office and I know Jane will have to go in there to answer it, so I dash out the kitchen and make it upstairs without being ogled. I actually feel a little bit guilty doing this as I'm sure Jane will be furious that I've denied her one of her pleasures in life. I hope she'll forgive me.

I haven't been watching the Express doors as I've presumed Bella will stay in today because of the rain. By twelve forty-five, the electricity is still off and I'm desperate for some caffeine so decide to go to Lyons for a coffee, whatever the weather. I check out the window to see if the rain has stopped, which it almost has, then grab my coat and head for the stairs. Being the considerate chap I am, I knock on John and Simon's doors on the way to ask them if I can get them anything. They both shout 'no thanks', so I shuffle my coat on as I make my way downstairs and head out the door. As I close it with a bang, a fat dollop of freezing water lands on my head and soaks my hair then drips down my forehead. I look up to see who or what has drenched me and spot that the gutter on the roof is overflowing. I try and shake the water off but that only makes my hair-situation worse as my well-groomed style is now in total disarray and I know I must look a state.

I trot across the road avoiding the puddles and make my way over to Lyons where there's a massive queue. At least someone is benefitting from the power cut I muse as I decide whether to treat myself to a cake but decide against it. Just coffee for me and maybe perhaps a sausage roll? Hmmm!

I'm counting the number of people in front of me, trying to estimate how long I'm going to be in the queue, when I feel a tap on my shoulder. It's a lawyer called Jonathan who was at Cambridge with me. He's gone down the usual privileged legal route preserved for the 'old families' and is in one of the prestigious firms that service The Old Bailey. We exchange pleasantries as the queue gets shorter and I don't really take much notice of what's going on in the shop until I hear a girl's voice cry out.

Everyone stops talking and I turn to see what the problem is. I almost choke when I see it's Bella at the front of the queue and she's visibly upset. She's just had some sort of drink spilled down the front of her coat and a well-dressed, city-type, in pin-striped trousers and a bowler hat, is yelling at her to get out his way. Without a second thought, I stride over to support her as I'm not letting this bully get away with speaking to her like that.

"What's going on?" I spit in his face. "Why are you shouting at this young lady?"

He recoils from me and I can tell he's making a quick assessment of who he's talking to. I can see him thinking, "Young chap, smart suit, cultured accent, definitely my class."

"The clumsy bitch dropped her drink on my shoes," he spits back. "And my trousers. Look at the mess. I'm insisting she pays for them to be cleaned."

"You pushed me," Bella wails.

"I did not push you, you tart. You just didn't move away quick enough after you were served. I'm a busy man; I haven't got all day to wait for low-lives like you."

"He did push her," a young woman said behind me. "I saw him."

"Thanks," I respond then put my face close to the bully's and put on my best scary look.

"You buy this _young_ _lady_ another drink and give her some money to have her coat cleaned, _and_ you apologise to her right now for calling her a 'tart', you arrogant shit."

"Or what?" he spits back aggressively but he's obviously shocked at my response, then he pushes me away and walks out of the shop without purchasing anything. I have to take an instant decision whether to go after him and punch his lights out or look after Bella. It takes me only a fraction of a second to decide that there's absolutely no way I'm going to miss this golden opportunity; I stay with Bella.

"Are you alright," I ask, and she's nodding her head but it's plain she isn't as a solitary tear is rolling down her cheek. I want to take her in my arms and comfort her but that's definitely not appropriate, so I speak to her in the softest voice I can manage, considering how angry I am.

"Go and sit at that table over there. I'll get some napkins so you can wipe your coat." Bella nods her head again and shuffles over to the table.

I turn to the lady who's first in the queue and ask, "Do you mind if I jump in?"

"No," she replies. "Go ahead. I'm glad someone had the nerve to stand up to that horrible man. Well done."

I ask the shop assistant for two coffees and a handful of napkins. She obliges me with a tray with two of Lyons' 'special' coffees, some fancy chocolate biscuits and a pile of napkins 'on the house', which is very good of her. I carry the tray over to the table and put it down in front of Bella.

"You shouldn't have done that," she says in a sweet but shaky voice. "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing," I reply. "I got them for free." She looks at me incredulously for a moment.

"Honestly?"

"Yes, honestly B…." I nearly say her name, but stop myself just in time. She doesn't notice thank goodness.

She picks up some of the napkins and starts dabbing her coat with them. Luckily it isn't wool or it would be ruined, but it will still need washing to get the stain out. I notice her hands are shaking slightly but I'm not certain whether this is due to the confrontation, or the realisation we've finally made contact. I'm still desperate to hug her or to hold her hands to help calm her down, but I manage to restrain myself.

She stops dabbing her coat and looks up at me with those gorgeous brown eyes that are now glistening with tears, but she hesitates before she says anything else. I can tell she's searching for clues in my face but eventually she speaks.

"Who are you?" she asks and her head tilts to one side like a curious kitten.

I don't answer straight away as I'm aware this question is loaded. If she wanted to know my name, she would ask me directly or offer her name first, so I guess she's after the reason why I looked at her the way I did in this very same shop two weeks ago almost to the minute. I decide to give her a straight answer as I've nothing to lose and everything to gain.

"My name's Edward. I'm a lawyer. I work in the office across the road from you, but you know that, don't you?"

She nods her head but doesn't say anything so I know she wants more.

"I'm going to be totally honest with you now. I spotted you from my window a couple of weeks ago and noticed your long hair which is unusual for a young woman nowadays. It was my own absurd curiosity that made me want to see the face that went with those glorious curls. I hope you don't mind?"

I wait for her response.

"I'm not a weirdo, believe it or not," I add anxiously hoping my comment will make her smile.

Bella looks down at her coat and I can tell she's amused because the corners of her mouth curl up. She shakes her head slightly and giggles which is very sweet.

"It's nice to meet you, Edward, and thanks for being honest." Then she takes a deep breath.

"My name's Isabella, or Bella for short. Before you say it, I know it's a pretentious name for an East End girl, but it's a family name going back to some European ancestors of my mother's, which is where all this comes from as well I presume."

She runs her fingers through the long curls on the right side of her face then flicks them over her shoulder. If she knew the effect this action was having on me she'd run a mile, but she's totally oblivious to what she's doing to me.

"It's a very pretty name and very apt, as you're very pretty too," I reply, while trying to stop myself thinking that 'pretentious' is a long word for someone who works in a typing pool to say, as I know I'm being an arrogant arse again.

"Thanks," she replies and blushes.

"Do you live near the City; I mean are you a real East Ender … I mean a Cockney?" I add clumsily and then I realise it's a bit forward of me to be asking this, but Bella doesn't seem to mind.

"I live in Poplar which is within the sound of Bow Bells, but I'm not a true Cockney because I wasn't born there and my family aren't proper East Enders. My dad got a job on the docks when he was demobbed after the war so they moved here from South London when I was about two. My parents don't talk Cockney which is why I don't talk Cockney. I can mimic the accent but it doesn't come naturally to me. Are you a Londoner?"

"No, my family are from Surrey but I live in West London now. I was brought up in the countryside surrounded by fields. A lot different from the city. Anyway, you should drink your coffee before it gets cold."

I push one of the cups towards her then drop a sugar lump in my own cup.

"I've never tried coffee before, Edward. I'm a tea girl; always have been. I even wear it now," she jokes and I chuckle with her. She really has got the most infectious laugh.

"Just try it, you might like it. Put some sugar in first."

Bella stirs in a couple of lumps then takes a tentative sip and then another. "This is yummy," she says enthusiastically and drinks some more.

"Have a biscuit," I offer, so she takes one and nibbles it daintily whereas I dunk mine in my cup. I have no airs, graces or shame. Bella laughs when it starts to instantly crumble so I shove it all in my mouth in one go.

She takes a few more sips of her coffee and then her eyes widen and she looks shocked.

"Oh my God, what's the time," she sort of shrieks.

"Five past one," I reply and then I remember she has to be back at work by one fifteen. I have no specific lunchtimes so I'm not used to watching the clock during the day.

"I've got to run," she says then downs the rest of the coffee in a few gulps. "Thanks so much for helping me; I'm really grateful to you."

"That's okay, Bella," I respond as I think quickly about how to broach remaining in contact. "Can I see you again at lunchtime?"

Bella gives me a surprised look and then frowns as though she's confused.

"What do you see in me, Edward? I'm just an ordinary girl from a typing pool. I'm nothing special and frankly I'm not in your league."

I'm taken aback by her response, but then I recall the conversation I had with myself on the tube after I'd first seen her, when I referred to my own thoughts as being on the same wavelength as Mr Darcy's.

"I'm not asking you for a date, Bella, so don't panic. I've really enjoyed meeting you and would like to get to know you better. To be totally frank, I don't choose my friends by what they do for a living. Would just meeting at lunchtime occasionally be okay with you or would you prefer not to bother?"

Bella looks slightly contrite after I've said my piece but she gives me an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry Edward," she says in a half whisper. "If you really would like to meet up for lunch, my break is between twelve thirty and a quarter past one. I don't come into Lyons every day, but we didn't get a hot drink this morning because of the power cut and I was frozen. I usually go for a walk at lunchtime but you're welcome to join me any time. I'll wait on the top step for a few minutes. If I see you at your window, I'll wait around the corner and meet you there. I'd rather nobody at the Express know that I'm meeting you if that's okay?"

"Okay," I reply and I'm about to ask why but she continues.

"It would be nice to get to know you too, Edward, but unlike you, all my friends are working class so it'll be a novelty for me. Now I've got to go but thanks again for rescuing me from that horrible man, and for the coffee, even if it was for free."

I stand up when she steps away from the table then she turns and waves to the shop assistant and mouths a "thank you" for the coffee then heads for the door. Before she leaves, she turns and gives me a radiant smile and a little wave, then walks through the door shaking her head as if she can't believe what's just happened. I sit down again and finish my coffee in silence, while thanking my lucky stars I've actually had the opportunity to talk to her at last and listen to her sweet voice.

I'm interested that she told me that her parents didn't originally come from the East End, but I'm still surprised that her diction isn't tainted with the 'cor blimey' Cockney accent I hear constantly in this area, and I wonder how she's managed to avoid speaking like this as she must have been surrounded by the accent at school.

She's said that she's 'working class', which is a term I hate as it means nothing to me. Even though I've been born into a rich and socially elite family, I have to work to keep myself because my parents have cast me adrift financially because of the job I do. I'm also aware I've been cut out of my father's Will, so cannot rely on inheriting anything from the family, apart from the one thing that is mine by right, even though I don't want it. If it wasn't for my grandfather leaving me enough money to purchase a house, I'd be flat sharing, or living in a one-room rented apartment with no mod-cons and with no spare money for bikes or any sort of social life.

A junior lawyer's salary isn't sufficient to be able to live independently in London, so I really do appreciate that I've been luckier than most having a home with no mortgage at my age. Now I'm working to maintain it, and my biking lifestyle, but I'm normally broke by the end of the month if you don't count the small amount I have left over from the inheritance I keep for emergencies. However if my career goes as planned, in a few years' time I should be earning enough to have some spare cash for holidays or other luxuries, but until then I'm as financially working class as the next man, even though with a name like 'Cullen' I'll never be _socially_ working class, but there's nothing I can do about this.

It's time I got back to work, so I thank the shop assistant again for the free coffee then wander slowly back to my office. I notice the lights are back on in some of the buildings in Fleet Street so I presume power has been restored. At least I'll be able to make some tea this afternoon if Jane is able to get some milk. Tea will take away the taste of the superior coffee I've just consumed in Lyons but I'll need something else to keep me going until it's time to go home.

I avoid the dripping gutter when I walk through the door and make it upstairs without Jane seeing me. When I get to my desk, Jane has left me a note informing me that my sister called when I was out, saying she's on her way to Haslemere and hopes I'll be there this evening as well. I still haven't decided whether to go tonight or not, but I know I'm erring towards travelling down to Haslemere in the morning.

I'm a spineless chicken, I admit it.

* * *

 **Bella**

I hang my tea-stained coat in the cloakroom and amble into the typing pool with about two minutes to spare. I'm not sure how I'm remaining upright after the events of the last half hour and it's only Mrs Black calling my name that brings me back to the real world. I walk over to her desk where she hands me a small envelope.

"You've got an interview on Wednesday, Bella. Well done," she whispers so none of the girls can hear.

"Thanks Mrs Black," I reply. "That's fantastic," I whisper in return.

As I wander back to my desk, a bitchy girl called Doreen hisses, "Been given your marching orders have you?"

I laugh under my breath as I know for certain she'll be furious when she finds out about my interview as she's been boasting to everyone she's in line for it, even though she can't spell for toffee.

"Something like that," I respond, and give her a forced smile.

"Better buy the local paper tonight then; they advertise a lot of cleaning jobs in there I hear, loser," she adds, which amuses me. If she knew an article I'd written was being published in the local paper, she'd be foaming at the mouth.

"I'll definitely get a copy, Doreen, but I won't be looking for another job. Maybe you should? I mean, how long have you been a typist; five, six, seven years? You'll be drawing your pension when you get out of here but I'll be long-gone by then, loser."

"That's enough ladies," Mrs Black calls out so I carry on walking to my desk with a smug grin on my face. This was the first time I'd ever fronted up bitchy Doreen. I think power is starting to go to my head.

The afternoon whizzes by and it's soon time to grab my coat and my pay envelope and head out the door. Sue stays with me just in case Doreen tries to have another go at me, but she wouldn't dare as Sue can be quite menacing when a situation presents itself. I look up at Edward's window and this time he gives me a cheery wave. I respond with a smile which I hope my colleagues haven't seen, as I don't want to alert them to the fact that I've made friends with a member of the opposite sex who isn't Jake.

Sue spots the stain on my coat and I tell her an abridged version of what happened in Lyons, leaving out the fact that the Knight in Shining Armour who came to the rescue was my Monday Man. I really don't have time to chat as I need to go home and get ready for my date with Jake this evening so I say cheerio and walk away before I get drawn into any more conversations. I know I should be excited to see Jake tonight, but to be honest, I'm more excited by the fact that Edward is still looking at me from his window.

I run across the road and catch the bus and fifteen minutes later I'm in my local newsagent buying a copy of the East London Advertiser. I conceal it in my bag as I don't want mum or dad to notice that I've bought it, as they would wonder why I've got my own copy because dad buys it every week anyway.

When I get through the door, I shout 'hello' to mum in the kitchen and race upstairs to my bedroom. Mike isn't in his room so I close the door, kick my shoes off and settle myself on the bed to read my article.

On the front page is a story Mike has written about the recent court case involving the local dock workers, but I bypass this as dad and Mike have been discussing it at length over the last few days. I know dad was delighted with the outcome yesterday, but to be honest I haven't got a clue what the dispute was about. I turn page after page until I see a stock photograph I've seen before of several Mods on scooters. My article appears alongside it, and it's almost word-for-word what I wrote for Mike. At the end of the article there's an editor's note stating that the Mod who was interviewed wished to remain anonymous, but the paper thanked 'him' for supplying an insight into a culture which is alien to most of the Advertiser's readership.

I'm relieved the readers has been thrown a red herring about the source of the information, as the Mods at The Roxy who may have read the article by this evening will believe it's a guy who's been interviewed. I've been slightly concerned about it going to print even anonymously, as all my friends know Mike works for the Advertiser. I would definitely have been the number one suspect tonight, but this one word has allowed me to relax somewhat. I'm sure it was Mike's idea and I'll remember to thank him for being so conscientious.

After dinner I get ready to go out and at a quarter to eight I hear scooters coming down our road. I remember to give mum my keep before I leave this time and she tells me to be careful. Dad is out tonight at some union meeting so I escape the usual lecture about crash helmets, going too fast etc. etc.

I give Jake a quick kiss and slide on the pillion behind him. I'm confident enough to ride with just one arm around him now and I wave to the others as we pull away. About ten minutes later we arrive at The Roxy and this time Jake carries on to the car park with me on the back, then gives me a full-on French kiss as soon as he's taken my helmet off.

I enjoy the kiss, but only because I'm imagining its Edward kissing me again, which is so wrong of me I know but what the hell. Edward is still as far away from me romantically as Paul McCartney, so I'll carry on fantasising about him until I get bored with it.

Jake finishes kissing me and I notice he's adjusting himself in his trousers afterwards and he winks at me when he catches me staring.

"That's what you do to me, Bella," he whispers in my ear. "I've got a raging hard-on every time I'm near you."

I smile at him and pretend to laugh while trying to work out what 'a raging hard-on' means, and then it dawns on me that he's got an erection through kissing me, and I know I've gone bright red. It's obvious another discussion with Alice is required and definitely before we go home.

Jake slings his arm over my shoulders and I slip my arm around his waist as we walk towards the club. I'm getting the bitch-eye as usual from Jake's fan club, but not from Jessica this time. She just looks away as I front out the girls who are eyeballing me. I've heard from Alice that Riley has asked Jessica out, so maybe she's given up trying to catch Jake, or maybe she's changing tactics. I don't know, and frankly I don't care.

The doors open and the club song, Louie Louie, blares out and spirits are instantly lifted. I know tonight is going to be a good night and life for me in general seems to be getting better and better and definitely more interesting. But I would be lying to myself if I didn't admit I would rather it was Edward's or the Rocker's arm that was draped across my shoulders, and I'm now more convinced than ever now they are one and the same guy.

I've been going over and over what happened today, and as Jake guides me across the dance floor to our usual spot, I re-live the altercation with the horrible man in Lyons and I visualise Edward's angry face as he confronted him. When he sat with me at the table I noticed his hair seemed darker than when I first saw him, probably because it was damp from the rain, and also it was flopping over his forehead, just like the Rocker's hair.

But what convinces me the most they're the same guy, is that the man who called the City arsehole an 'arrogant shit', wasn't Edward, the nice young lawyer with lovely manners and a cultured speaking voice who took care of me afterwards, it was his Rocker persona confronting the man, and even dressed in a boring suit, Edward the Lawyer was _hot_ , really really _hot_.

* * *

 **I bet he was! Mmmm mmmm. Nothing better than a good looking guy defending your honour to make you fall for him. No wonder she needed to sit down.**

 **So they've talked, at last! Sorry for the wait. She's pretty certain now that Edward is the Rocker, as aggressive Eddie made an appearance again. She must be wondering why an upstanding young lawyer turns into a leather wearing Rocker at the weekends.**

 **Edward of course knows Bella has a boyfriend, so he's got to tread carefully, or take his lead from her. They'll be meeting up for lunch soon, so that might be the turning point in their relationship.**

FYI

 **The Old Bailey** is the Central Criminal Court for the Greater London area. A 'Bailey' is a Norman (French) name for a wall and the court stands where part of London's original fortified wall used to be. The original wall was built in the third century by the Romans and large parts of it can still be seen, especially near Tower Hill tube station where there's a large section of it. The history of the wall is really interesting - just put 'London Wall' on the internet. Fascinating stuff.

1964, the word 'Reggae' had not been heard in England, however the West Indian immigrants brought over **Blue Beat,** **Ska** and **Rock Steady** music, which had a similar beat to Reggae. Desmond Dekker had the first commercially successful reggae record in the UK in 1969 with The Israelites, but there was already a huge underground Ska scene where imported Ska records were played in clubs from about the mid-sixties onwards. I won a dancing competition in 1970 and the prize was to have a dance with Desmond Dekker (RIP). I was in a fantastic dance hall called The Boathouse in Kew in Richmond. I was fifteen - I shouldn't have even been in the club (over 18's only), but hey ho, it was a lot of fun. Desmond was very short, but a great dancer.

 **Motown** music was hardly ever played on the radio until Ready Steady Go devoted the whole of one of their programmes to Motown in March 1965, after which it exploded in the UK. The stars on the show were The Supremes, Smokey Robinson, Stevie Wonder, The Temptations (my favourite), Martha Reeves  & the Vandella's and Marvin Gaye. No Four Tops unfortunately, but they were on later shows.

 **'Cor blimey'** is a slang expression which translated comes from 'God Blind Me'. It's used all over the country now, but is mainly associated with London. It's used as an expression of surprise, like, "Cor Blimey, look at that!"

If there is anything else you need explaining, please don't hesitate to send me a question in either a review or a DM. I'll definitely get back to you.

 **Next time you'll meet Edward's parents for the first time and Bella will start to be concerned** **about Jake's motives with regard to their relationship.**

Joan x


	12. Chapter 12

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 11**

Friday 3rd April, 1964

 **Edward**

I'm not such a chicken after all as I've decided to hit the road tonight and head to the family estate in Haslemere for my parent's thirtieth anniversary bash. I made the decision on the tube ride home from work and it was based purely on necessity. I've no decent food in the house at all and can't face the trauma of being in an overcrowded supermarket at the end of a long day. Also, I can guarantee my mother's refrigerators will be heaving with all sorts of wonderful delights purchased from either Harrods or Fortnum and Mason's, so I know I won't starve.

I call the house to let them know I'm on my way so they can kill the fatted calf in preparation for the return of their prodigal son, then I quickly stuff a few personal items into a duffel bag. Fortunately I still have a wardrobe full of suitable clothes in my old bedroom at home so don't need to take anything to wear. By 'suitable', I mean clothes I purchased while I was still receiving handouts from my parents, including handmade suits from Saville Row or Jermain Street, a tuxedo I purchased in Harrods prior to starting at Cambridge, which thankfully still fits me, plus shirts, sweaters, socks, dress shoes and several pairs of casual trousers, all from high-end shops or exclusive department stores.

I usually travel to Haslemere by train then get a cab from the station, but tonight I'm going by bike and Sadie is my ride of choice. My parents are aware I ride motorbikes, but I've never turned up at the house on one before so I can't guess what their reaction is going to be when I roar up their immaculately kept gravel drive. Hopefully my method of transport will give them something else to moan about other than my choice of career, or the fact that I'm not as yet engaged to a buck-toothed, fat-arsed debutant with a penchant for sweet sherry and ponies.

After the drama of the tribunal which was initially very stressful, plus my growing concern about why Jenks is off work, then finally making contact with Bella and how talking to her has affected me, I need a distraction to clear my overloaded brain. A long ride through the English countryside in the semi-darkness will hopefully focus my mind on something other than work, or, I'm loathe to admit it, the girl who is keeping me awake at night.

As I roll Sadie onto the cobbles and lock the stable door, I imagine Bella being here with me. I can see her in my mind's eye as clearly as though she's standing in front of me. She's wearing skin-tight, soft-leather trousers with an equally tight studded leather jacket that zips up to her neck. She'll have knee-high, well-fitting boots and her soft, curly hair will be dangling loose down her back almost to her waist. She'll put her helmet on then climb onto the pillion behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist then giving me a playful squeeze before we set off. I smile as I can almost feel the gentle pressure of her hands on my chest and wonder whether I'll ever convince her to cross that widest of boundaries and become a Rocker like me.

Not bothering to wait until I'm out of earshot of my neighbours this time, I start Sadie up and let her roar like an angry tigress. I haven't ridden her for over two weeks and it's like hearing her voice for the first time again, so I let her roar for a little longer than is absolutely necessary. I see Alec's curtains twitch and I know he's watching me, (well I'm sure he's enviously looking at Sadie not me), so I raise my arm up in acknowledgement as I pull away at speed. As Sadie bounces over the cobbles, my balls jiggle pleasantly in my leather trousers, like they're being massaged by a female hand. But the hand isn't Tanya's anymore, it's Bella's, and the thought of her playing with my manhood wreaks havoc on another part of my anatomy.

As I race through Kensington, past the newly opened Commonwealth Institute on my right, then through the back-streets of West London heading south towards the A3, I try to convince myself that my infatuation with Bella is a non-starter as I have nothing in common with this East End girl, other than the simple fact we both work in the City. As the miles flash by I make up a list of all the drawbacks of being in a relationship with her, totally ignoring the fact that she's someone else's girlfriend at the moment.

First of all, she's too young for me; at the most she's only nineteen so still a child in my eyes. She's definitely poorly educated or she'd be in a better job, even though she's articulate and speaks nicely. She's unsophisticated I would guess, but then I ask myself, what does that word actually mean? Am I sophisticated because I went to Public School and read Homer's Iliad when I was sixteen? It's all a load of bollocks; sophistication, my arse! Her clothes are poor quality, but that's not her fault. She probably lives in a council house, but that's not her fault either.

Finally, and probably most importantly, she's not from my social class, even though that particular term turns my stomach as I despise what my class stands for. But it's still a factor and would probably put _her_ off _me_ rather than the other way around. Actually, I left the final drawback to the end, _s_ he's a Mod and will probably throw a fit when she finds out I'm a Rocker.

And then I think,

Fuck it, she's beautiful in my eyes. She's feminine and sweet and she's unlike any other girl I've met before. There's something about her that intrigues me; something under the surface of her translucent skin that's waiting to show itself, like a gloriously colourful butterfly struggling inside its dowdy cocoon, desperate to escape and emerge to a new life in a blaze of glory. I'm desperate to find out more about her and I try to imagine what's going on in her mind, like whether she's ambitious, or talented in some way, or just happy with her life the way it is. Then I think about the jerk who probably has his arms around her right now and I feel angry and jealous that she may be somebody else's lover already.

I try to expel her from my thoughts and enjoy the ride, but I cannot forget the image of her stroking her beautiful brunette curls as she talked about her family, then flicking her hair over her shoulder, totally oblivious of what she was doing to me. Also, I can still hear her asking me 'why I'm interested in her' in that lovely tinkling voice of hers and I speculate why she has such a low opinion of herself. Maybe her parents or her school teachers conditioned her to feel subordinate to the socially elite or professional classes, and this indoctrination has been so embedded in her subconscious that she cannot shake off this feeling. Or maybe that's just how she's been treated by people like me; a prime example being that arsehole in Lyons today, who referred to her as a bitch, a tart and a low-life. I start to feel angry again and now wish I'd followed him out of the shop to re-model his nose, and the rest of his face while I was at it, and _then_ go back and comfort Bella.

As I tear down the A3 towards my home town, which is situated at the geographical point where three of the richest counties in England meet, I ask myself what's wrong with someone like me hooking up with a girl like Bella? Our relationship might only last a season or it may last a lifetime, and as I'm now financially independent from my family, why the hell shouldn't I choose the partner I want and not one from the procession of 'suitable' young ladies that I'm sure mother is planning to parade in front of me at tomorrow's party, like a line of prize heifers at the County Show. Maybe I should've bought some 1st, 2nd and 3rd place rosettes so I could stick them on their arses? Then I admonish myself for being mean, as these upper-class girls have also been conditioned during their formative years to behave in a certain way, which is basically to bag a man from their 'class', just like Bella probably has.

As I pass through Guildford, I really wish Bella was accompanying me to this weekend nightmare, but then I reason with myself that she would probably never agree to put herself through an event like this as she would feel totally out of place. I have to admit she wouldn't know anything about the social etiquette that's expected when mixing with the highest echelons of British society, and I wouldn't want to put her in a situation where she might be embarrassed or ridiculed.

I chuckle as I recall being taken by my parents to see the George Bernard Shaw play ' _Pygmalion'_ in London, and I start imagining myself as a modern-day Professor Higgins. I could teach the lovely Isabella how to conduct herself in certain situations and buy her some nice clothes to wear, but then she wouldn't be Bella anymore and that's not what I want. I chuckle again as my number one fantasy woman, Audrey Hepburn, will soon be staring as Eliza Doolittle in the film version of Pygmalion. It would be strange if I took Bella to see it, especially if she saw herself as a modern-day Covent Garden flower girl and me as her upper class mentor.

As I spot the first signs for Haslemere, I realise I cannot honestly remember much of the journey as my mind has been on Bella for most of the time, so my plan to rid her from my thoughts has disappeared down the Swany River. However I'm resigned to the fact that from the moment I arrive on Cullen territory I'll need to have my wits about me, as I'm not exactly flavour of the month at home. If my plan for the weekend is to be distracted from my Fleet Street flirtation, then this is definitely the place to be.

It has taken me just over an hour to get to Haslemere on the busy and boring A3, but I've been looking forward to the last few miles of the journey as I know I'm going to enjoy them the most. For the final ten minutes or so before I reach home, I get my kicks belting along the winding country lanes which lead to the imposing columns and ornate gates that mark the entrance to the Cullen Estate.

Even though this is the first time I've travelled these roads on a bike, I know every twist and turn like the back of my hand, and I imagine I'm on the Isle of Man, taking part in one of their highly-dangerous TT races, as the narrow roads and rolling landscapes of Surrey are similar to those of the aforementioned island in the Irish Sea. Stone walls and high hedges sit on either side of the narrow lanes, blocking my view of any on-coming vehicles that could end my life in a second, but I don't care if that's what's going to happen to me. This is the type of road Sadie was created for and I let her fly.

Rosie assured me she would make sure the gates are left open so I hardly slow down when I turn the final bend in the road and see the impressive entrance approaching. Bronze sculptures of highland stags sit on top of each of the stone columns, ensuring our visitors are reminded of my family's ancient Scottish heritage when they enter. I sweep past them without glancing up and roar along the drive which is just over a quarter of a mile long, and as I pass the familiar landmarks, I recall learning to ride my first proper kid's bike along here about twenty years ago, which was probably my first experience of speed on two wheels.

As the impressive three hundred year old house comes into view, I slow down a tad before coming to a screeching halt in a spray of gravel in front of the imposing pile of stone and brick which is aptly named Cullen Manor. This is the ancestral home of the Cullen 'clan', of which I'm technically the heir-apparent as the only son of the current Laird. Dad may have cut me off financially, but there are certain rights and privileges which are mine through birth and there's absolutely nothing he can do about it.

Sadie's roar has announced my arrival to everyone within a half-mile radius of the house, which means there's no need for me to ring the doorbell. The front door is flung open within seconds, but before I have time to dismount I catch sight of Rosie's grinning face and it's obvious she's trying not to laugh. Behind her is my mother, and if looks could kill I'd already be wrapped in a shroud and resting in the family vault.

Behind her, with what looks like a large glass of Scotch in his hand, is my father, Lord Carlisle Anthony Edward Cullen of Moray, Master of the Rolls, or to give him his full, impressive and ancient title, ' _The Keeper or Master of the Rolls and Records of the Chancery of England and President of the Court of Appeal'_ , which means he is the most senior judge in England, answerable only to the Lord Chancellor. He also has the inherited title 'Viscount Moray', which will pass to me on his death, which means he's a Peer of the Realm and is entitled to sit in the House of Lords because of who our ancestors were.

"Edward!" my mother declares disapprovingly, as though I've arrived on the back of a tinker's cart in full view of minor royalty and all her friends and neighbours.

"Goooodeeevening son," my father slurs then takes another mouthful of whiskey as he grabs hold of the door for support.

"Great!" I say under my breath. "Dad's already pissed and mum's furious. What the hell possessed me to come here tonight?"

As I slide off Sadie's back, the family's two chocolate brown Labradors come bounding out of the house to greet me. At least they're not bothered how I've arrived and I crouch down and let them slobber all over me. As I stand up again, my stomach rumbles as I haven't eaten anything since the biscuits I had with Bella, and then I remember why I came down tonight.

"What's for dinner, mum," I ask as I swagger towards the door. I bend down and give her a kiss on her forehead, and even though I'm positive she's been fighting the inevitable, the scowl on her face cracks into a smile and I know I've been forgiven.

* * *

 **Bella**

The Roxy is packed tonight and the gossip is all about the article in the Advertiser, and everyone is trying to work out who it was that was interviewed. Mike is the prime suspect, even though he's not really a true Mod, but I say categorically to anyone who asks that it was _definitely_ not Mike as he's been covering the dock workers' court case all week, which is true, plus he didn't go to Clacton or Hastings so couldn't have known what happened. Fortunately the article has gone down very well in The Roxy, as it paints an accurate and sympathetic picture of our culture and gives a convincing reason why the Mods shouldn't be held wholly to blame for the trouble in Clacton, or anywhere else last weekend.

Jake is being very attentive tonight and keeps complimenting me in front of his friends, which is very nice but I'm starting to suspect he has an ulterior motive. I guess I'll find out soon what it is but I'm pretty sure he'll attempt to take our relationship up a level tonight and I'm not sure whether I'm ready for this. Alice is a bit morose as Jaz has gone away for the weekend with his family, so one of the other boys picked her up this evening after getting Jaz's permission. I'm seeing less and less of Alice now as she's working hard towards her final exams in May and June and most of her free time is spent with Jaz, which is understandable as she seems to be head over heels in love with him. I need to talk to her about 'raging hard-ons' and stuff like that though, so at the first opportunity I ask her to come to the loo with me.

I make sure there's no-one in any of the cubicles before I ask her what she thinks Jake's next move will be so I can be mentally prepared for it. I feel stupid asking her this, but it's better than making a complete fool of myself. Alice gives me a hug then starts listing what he might try next.

"Okay," she said. "Has he touched your boobs yet?"

I shake my head.

"That will be his next step. Are you okay with that?"

"You mean outside my clothes?"

"Yes."

"I suppose so."

"How about…inside your top, Bella?"

"I don't know. What do you think?"

"Well it's up to you because he'll be touching bare skin then, and he might try and slip his fingers inside your bra."

"Oh Jesus."

"Not ready yet?"

"I don't think so. I'm frightened that if I give off the wrong signals, he might think I'm up for going all the way, which I'm not."

Alice gives me a hard stare for a moment then carries on.

"Well, you could say no to the hand under the blouse but offer to give him some relief instead."

"You mean touch him … there?" I make a below the waist gesture with my hand.

"Yep, he'd be _very_ happy if you did that."

"I wouldn't know what to do," I wail. "Do I rub him above his trousers or inside his trousers?"

"Oh Bella, you really are naïve," Alice responds, but in a sympathetic way. "You're going to have to let Jake guide you. Just be honest and tell him you've never done this sort of thing before and I'm sure he'll be delighted to give you a lesson. He won't be embarrassed, so you mustn't be."

I nod my head and try to smile, but Alice isn't convinced.

"Can I ask you something, Bella?"

"Sure," I reply nervously because I know Alice doesn't hold back when asking personal questions.

"Do you like Jake? …..What I mean is do you _really_ like Jake."

"Yes, of course I do. Why do you ask?"

"It's just that if you _really_ _really_ like someone, you should be relaxed about this sort of thing and be anxious to please that person, within reason of course. It seems to me as though there's something else going on in your pretty little head, like you're not entirely sold on the idea of being intimate with Jake at all, not now or even in the future. Am I right?"

I was ready to deny this categorically but Alice had hit the nail on the head. How could I let Jake do these things to me, or even me do things to him, when the only person I really wanted to do this sort of thing with is an unattainable young lawyer called Edward, who today stated categorically in the café that he didn't want to date me; he just wanted to be my friend.

I was just about to respond when some girls burst through the door which put an end to our confidential conversation. Alice had given me a lot to think about but I was still undecided how far I was prepared to go with Jake, or how to respond if he made a move on me tonight or any other night.

I indicate to Alice that we should go back to the dance floor and we shuffle our way through the crowd to where our group is congregating. The first person I spot is Jessica. She has her hand on Jake's arm and is standing much too close to him in my opinion. She spots me approaching but doesn't attempt to take her hand away but gives his arm a little squeeze and the wide-eyed 'you've only got to say the word' look, which I'm beginning to recognise.

Before I have a chance to say anything, Alice strides up to her and says, "Drunk again I see, Jessica, and need someone to hold you upright. I wouldn't bother, dear; I'm sure you'll soon be flat on your back, giving it away as usual by the end of the night. Are there any guys left in this place that haven't had the pleasure of your … company?"

"Why don't you fuck off," Jessica spits back at her then gives me a filthy look. "I was just _talking_ to Jake, which is more than _she_ was doing. If you abandon your boyfriend, that's what happens, loser."

"So every time I go to the Ladies, you're going to make a play for Jake. Is that right, Jessica?" I respond. "Next time I'll take him with me; I'm sure he wouldn't mind, would you Jake, _darling_?"

Jake grins at me and shakes Jessica's hand away. I was feeling bold now.

"Just piss off, Jessica, and leave us alone. You're an old slapper and everyone here knows it."

Jessica raises her hand in the air and I know she's going to throw a punch, but Jake grabs her hand and forces it downwards.

"Just go, Jessica," he says. "I want to dance with my girlfriend, so leave us alone."

I'm tempted to give her a smug grin and a 'nah nah nah', but I've matured from playground insults that would have been okay for twelve year-olds, so I give Jake a 'you're my hero' look and take his hand and lead him onto the dance floor where the _Drifters_ are singing a new song about a _Boardwalk._ I notice that Riley is dancing with someone else, so Jessica is one of the only girls who doesn't have a partner and I can almost see steam coming out of her ears. Her eyes are fixed on Jake and me, and when we shuffle around so Jake's back is to her, I stick two fingers up which is the last straw. She picks up her bag and storms out of the club and that's the last we see of her all evening.

Jake is nuzzling his face in my hair and humming along to the tune then he whispers in my ear, "I'm really sorry, Bella. It shouldn't have happened."

"That's okay," I whisper back. "I can't blame her for fancying you and she's a bitch, so it's to be expected."

Jake chuckles and kisses me on the lips. "You know you're so far above her, it's like comparing an expensive perfume to cheap scent, it's like wool and nylon, it's like salmon and cod, it's like….."

"Stop!" I say. "Perfume and scent is enough. I don't like being compared to a fish, even if it is salmon."

Jake kisses me again, this time with more feeling then walks me off the dance floor to a quieter corner of the club.

"I really like you, Bella. You do things to me that no other girl has done before. I want you so badly but I'm prepared to wait until you're ready, as I guess you're inexperienced as far as boys are concerned. I hope you feel you can trust me?"

I nod my head in agreement and I'm relieved because Jake has just saved me from starting off a difficult conversation.

"I do trust you, Jake," I respond. "I just need to take all of this step by step; I hope you don't mind?"

"No, of course I don't mind. As I say, you're worth waiting for, Bella, and I'll take whatever you're prepared to give."

"Thanks, Jake. I really don't deserve you." I take a deep breath before I say the next few words. "You'll really have to guide me though, if we're going to do this properly."

Jake looks a bit astonished then raises his hand and strokes my hair gently. "I'll be a great teacher, I promise, and I won't push you or take any risks. Happy?"

"Very happy," I say, then Jake gives me a full on French kiss and I actually enjoy it as I'm thinking about him rather than the unattainable young lawyer, who is probably snogging someone called Henrietta or Camilla right now.

We walk back onto the dance floor and join the others who are going berserk to _The Surfari's 'Wipe Out',_ which is always the signal from the DJ to the crowd that some serious dance tunes are going to be played in the next fifteen to twenty minutes. The lights are dimmed further, the glitter balls start rotating under the spotlights and mayhem ensues.

This is the moment when all the frustrations of the week are shaken off and two hundred teenagers just let loose and don't care a jot who's watching or judging. For the boys it's almost a ritual where they compete for the centre spot in a circle and display their best moves while the girls look on. Jake's a great dancer and is one of the first to take centre stage and his footwork is astonishing. Tyler leans over to me and shouts in my ear, "Not bad for a white guy," then muscles into the centre, pushing Jake out the way and then proceeds to show us how it's really done, Jamaican style.

The next record is Chris Montez's 'Let's Dance', then Sam Cooke's 'Twistin' the Night Away', then Dion's 'Wanderer', finishing off with the Kingsmen's Louie Louie, when everyone screams the chorus at the top of their voices. The DJ slows it down after that with Ben E King's 'Stand by Me', which is one of my favourite-ever songs. We all know the words, so the whole club sings along, even the bar staff, and it's one of those magical moments I'll remember for a long time.

My throat is sore from the singing so I make the universal mime of drinking from a glass and head towards the bar. Jake is only halfway through his pint so I buy myself a coke and take a breather in the cooler air at this end of the club. As I walk back towards our crowd, I notice some of the boys are huddled together and laughing, then I spot one guy, who I think is called Ian, throw something down his throat and take a drink. I stop walking and keep watch as it's obvious something illicit is being passed around and most of the boys are dipping their hands inside a white paper bag and taking a share of whatever's in there. I watch the bag being passed to Jake who hesitates, then thankfully passes it on to the next guy who takes whatever it is and passes it on.

I realise I've been holding my breath as this would be a no-brainer for me. I couldn't consider being with anyone who took drugs, especially if they were in control of a scooter, so I'm relieved Jake isn't interested. I decide not to let on what I've seen and carry on walking towards Jake and slip my arm around his waist then give him a kiss.

Jake bends down and whispers in my ear, "How do you feel about leaving a bit early, before the rush?"

I guess straight away what he's implying and with only a few seconds of hesitation I agree, knowing full well that very shortly Jake will be giving me my first lesson in intimacy.

* * *

 **Edward**

I'd like to be able to say it was my mother who made me a very welcome dinner of chicken chasseur with new potatoes and French beans followed by a big slab of treacle tart and custard, but it was our cook, who is appropriately named Mrs. Cook, who stayed on a bit later than usual to feed me. I offered to take her home on my bike but she declined, which is understandable as I'm sure she's in her late sixties by now and has probably never taken her old Morris Minor over thirty in her life. My mother potters around in the kitchen occasionally, but she leaves all the heavy duty cooking to Mrs Cook who is an absolute legend, and has fed my family since I was about five.

After dinner I put Sadie away for the night in one of the outbuildings then wander into the drawing room, (which is the room that's called a lounge or sitting room in practically every other home in the land). My father is slumped in his favourite chair watching an episode of The Defenders on the TV, which makes me chuckle under my breath because he doesn't stray far from the courtroom even at home.

Despite the fact that he's probably worked his way through half a bottle of Scotch by now, I know I'm going to get the third degree from him. However I'd rather get it over and done with now so we've cleared the air by tomorrow and there won't be a cloud hanging over the party. I help myself to a Scotch from the cocktail cabinet but water it down slightly as I need to keep my wits about me. After taking a sip, I take the chair nearest to the massive stone fireplace which is only lit at Christmas or if there's a power cut, and take another longer drink for Dutch courage. My dad doesn't pull any punches and goes in with a belter.

"I presume you're a fully paid up member of the Communist Party by now, Edward?"

He doesn't wait for me to respond to that dig but carries on with his attempt to tear me to shreds.

"Have you any idea of the flack I'm receiving in Chambers and the Lords because of your fun and games with that tin-pot law firm? What the hell do you think you were playing at last week? You've probably cost this country a fortune by winning that case. But before you say anything, I don't care anymore that you've chosen to waste your first class honours degree representing people who've been sacked, but this time you've taken the side of the Trades Unions, who'll be holding this country to ransom if we're not careful. What possessed you to get involved with this case; has Jenks lost his mind?"

I choose my words carefully as I really don't want a full-on argument with my father, but I'm boiling inside because he's asking me to apologise for upholding the law of the land.

"Even Communists are entitled to be represented in court, dad, but these dock workers aren't Communists. They're hard working men defending their livelihoods, and the law was on their side this time."

"Laws can be interpreted in different ways as you well know, but you're determined to drag this family's name into the mud by defending these types of people."

I take a deep breath to calm myself but he isn't going to get away with insulting these men, most of whom are World War Two ex-soldiers, or at least had done their national service.

"So what you're saying is that these 'types of people' aren't entitled to a defence when their bosses try to shaft them. In your world they should just tip their cap and say, "yes boss, no boss, three bags full boss," and be grateful they've got a job in the first place, even though their managers want to slash their wages to the bone. Are you implying, dad, that a working man or woman shouldn't have the same protection under the law as you or I, and that access to justice should only be for the rich and privileged?"

He stares at my face as though he's trying to bore into my mind, and then he shakes his head as though he's indicating he's given up on me.

"What's happened to you, son? Who's corrupted your mind so much that you can't see the bigger picture here? The working class needs to be kept under control, or the country will be overrun by Commies and the Trades Unions. You're playing with fire but you just can't see it. I blame those Trotsky's at Cambridge who call themselves Professors for poisoning your mind. You should've gone to Oxford and had some sense knocked into you."

"Nothing's happened to me, dad. It's just that the world is changing fast and civil liberties and justice has got to be seen to be available to _everyone_ , or we'll end up having a revolution like the Soviet Union."

He huffed but didn't come back with a retort so I carried on.

"Can't you get it into your obviously closed mind that the working classes are more knowledgeable nowadays, and are not prepared to be shit on from a great height any more. They read newspapers, dad. They see injustices being reported on the TV. They also see people living off the fat of the land; unaffected by the shortages and poverty which are still prevalent in every city, town and village in this country. They've fought two world wars for us, and now they want to see _their_ lives improve, and if they don't, they may turn on people like us who seem to be doing their level best to preserve the lifestyle and values of the nineteenth century. If we respect _them_ , they in turn will respect _us._ Does that argument resonate with you, or are you so blinkered from what's going on in the world that like Nero, you'll fiddle while Rome's burning."

He laughed facetiously and took a long drink of his whiskey.

"Well, at least they taught you Classics at Cambridge."

"Eton, actually. I didn't do Classics at university."

"I'm not going to say any more about this, Edward, but you're bound to get some flack at the party tomorrow from some of my friends in the judiciary, so you'd better be prepared for it. However, I'm sure you'll be able to hold your own, especially against that useless barrister, Giles Fotherington, who's probably still smarting after being trounced at the tribunal by a young lawyer barely out of nappies, even though he's the son of the Master of the Rolls."

"He's going to be here tomorrow?" I choked.

I recalled the look on Fotherington's face when the judge was giving her deliberations and I could tell he was furious with her and with me.

"Yes, Edward, so make sure you keep your back to the wall whenever he's near, or you may find a piece of your mother's cutlery lodged between your shoulder blades."

"Thanks for the advice, dad. Is there anything else I should know?"

"Only that your mother has invited every unmarried aristocratic girl under the age of twenty five who lives within a hundred mile radius of this house, so they can throw themselves at your feet, so be warned."

"Thanks, but I'd already guessed she'd do that. I'm not interested though; I don't want to go down that route for a while yet."

"If you don't hurry up, all the pretty ones will be taken, Edward."

I grimaced then finished my drink and stood up.

"You don't know me at all, do you, dad? I'm not interested in whether a girl's pretty, or whether she's rich, or titled, or just well-connected. I want a girl who's bright, intelligent and quick witted, but most of all I want a girl who loves _me_ , and not the title I was born to inherit. I'm sorry, dad, but preserving this family's aristocratic pedigree is not high on my list of priorities when looking for a future wife, and if you want to blame anyone for that, you can blame Grandpa, who told me to marry for love and nothing else."

"Bloody old fool," dad muttered.

"That's maybe, but I'm grateful to the bloody old fool for allowing me to become independent from you. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to have a shower and an early night as mum has a list of jobs for me to do tomorrow morning."

I hear him 'harrumph' as I leave the room, but I know I've won the argument as he didn't come back at me when I pointed out to him that England was a different country now and he had to move with the times. I suspect he knows this, as deep down he's a decent man despite his prejudices. I might have a problem tomorrow though, as the massed army of the Royal Courts of Justice will be railed against me over the canapes and Bucks Fizz.

As I leave the Master of the Rolls in his drawing room, no doubt contemplating what I've just said, I spot Rosie sitting on the bottom step of the grand staircase. She jumps up and flings her arms around me and gives me a smacking great kiss on the cheek then she whispers in my ear.

"Edward, I hate saying this, but I'm soooooooo proud of you."

As I wander upstairs with my father's words ringing in my ears, I'm sure I can hear him laughing to himself and the sound of the decanter hitting the edge of his glass. But then I hear him say the following three words, and I'm stunned,

"That's my boy!"

And then he starts chuckling again.

* * *

 **So is Carlisle secretly proud of his son? Edward will still need to watch himself at the party though as Giles and his chinless buddies will be waiting to have a pop at him.**

 **What do you think Jake is planning to do with Bella? I know most of you are not happy with the Jake/Bella relationship, so maybe he'll go a bit too far this time and she'll give him the elbow. You'll soon find out. (I can hear you all shouting "about bloody time.")**

FYI

Before the formation of the UK's Supreme Court in 2009, the Court of Appeal was the highest court in the land, and the **Master of the Rolls** was the highest judge in the land, other than the Lord Chancellor, which was more of a political appointment. Carlisle is also an Viscount, which is an hereditary title and also means he is a 'Lord' in his own right so is now doubly entitled to sit in Parliament's House of Lords. The title will pass to Edward on Carlisle's death as his is an ancient (Scottish) title, more than likely bestowed because one of his ancestors was the offspring of a mistress of a randy monarch. British history is fascinating!

I'm sure most of you have heard of **Harrods** , but **Fortnum & Masons** is an even posher department store that's situated in Piccadilly, in London. The Food Hall there is ridiculously expensive so is only for the very wealthy. I'm sure Edward isn't going to starve.

If you're wondering why Edward keeps all his 'suitable' clothes at his parents' place, it's because he doesn't want the people he works with to know he comes from a wealthy family as you can spot a Saville Row suit at a hundred yards. Also, if he's interviewing working class clients, he doesn't want them to presume he has no idea what their lives are like, which is why he wears Burton's suits to work, (high-street quality).

 **Haslemere** is a lovely town nestling on the border of Surrey, West Sussex and Hampshire. It has always been a very affluent area with lots of country estates, rich, fertile farmland and spectacular nature walks. Large areas of land around Haslemere is now owned by the National Trust which is an organisation which works to preserve the history and natural beauty of the United Kingdom.

The **Isle of Man** is famous for its TT (Tourist Trophy) motorbike races. They are very dangerous and the list of fatalities is really awful, but it doesn't stop enthusiasts and professional racers risking their lives every year on the country roads.

For those of you who remember Ready Steady Go, the **Surfari's 'Wipe Out'** was the original signature tune, until **5-4-3-2-1 by Manfred Mann** replaced it in 1965.

A **tinker** is another name for a Gypsy or Traveller.

 **The Defenders** was an American courtroom drama series and was actually on the BBC at 8pm on 3rd April 1964. You can look up past copies of the Radio and TV times on the internet, which is a real nostalgia trip for oldies like me who want to be reminded of what was on the TV back then.

 **Next chapter there'll be a little surprise right at the end (no peeking).**

Joan xx


	13. Chapter 13

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 12**

 **Bella**

Jake and I slip away from The Roxy about twenty minutes before the end, but I don't say goodbye to anyone other than Alice who's still moping about not seeing Jaz all weekend. I get my coat and walk with Jake towards the car park at the back of the club which is deserted. I'm already feeling very apprehensive about what's going to happen next, even though he's promised we would just be taking small steps. I sort of trust him, but he's still a bloke and I'm already anticipating I'll have to put the brakes on if he gets carried away. I'm determined to stay in control though, even if it means dumping him on the spot if he gets 'arsey' and making my own way home.

"This way," he whispers, as though we're doing something illicit, which I suppose we are when you think about it. He doesn't walk towards his scooter which is what I was expecting him to do, but guides me towards a door at the back of the club which is out of sight of the car park. I notice that it's slightly ajar, which is very convenient and highly suspicious as though he's planned this all along.

"In here," he whispers again, even though there's no-one around, so I follow him through the door into a dark area where there are boxes and crates stacked up against the walls. It's obviously some sort of store room for the club and it's also obvious Jake's been in here before. I try and dismiss this from my mind as I'm more concerned about what's going to happen next.

"Don't be nervous," Jake assures me. "One step at a time, remember?"

That sort of calms me a bit so I relax as Jake goes in for the first kiss and it's of the French variety of course. As he's invading my mouth, he walks me over to the wall and gently pushes me against it and I can feel his 'raging hard-on' pressing against my stomach. His mouth breaks away from mine and progresses down my neck and he starts trying to give me a love bite.

"Stop!" I hiss, as the last thing I need on my neck right now is a big red mark, which would not look very professional at the Advertiser tomorrow or for my interview on Wednesday. Not only that, if mum or dad spotted it Jake would have to go into hiding."

Jake chuckles and starts nibbling my ear instead, which feels really weird but not unpleasant. I'm not sure what to do with my hands, so I run them up and down his back which he seems to like as he makes moany sounds.

He shuffles his feet so he's standing to one side of me and his right hand comes from behind my back where he's been holding me and he plants it gently on my left breast. He looks at me warily for a brief second but when I don't complain he starts massaging it in circular movements and then he searches for my nipple with his fingers. When he finds it, he flicks it with his thumb and a tingling sensation goes all the way down to my toes.

He starts French kissing me again and when he takes a breath he mutters about how much I turn him on and he can't wait to be inside me which freaks me out a bit. Then he takes his hand off my breast, grabs hold of my left hand and manoeuvres it downwards so it's touching his penis. "Rub it," he mumbles so I start to make circular movements with my hand. "Up and down," he mumbles again, so I do my best to comply whilst concentrating on the kissing _and_ remaining upright, _and_ at the same time trying not to compare what I'm doing with that stupid game where you pat your head and rub your tummy at the same time.

Jake takes his hand away from mine and starts fumbling with the button on his trousers and I start to panic.

"What are you doing, Jake?" I hiss.

"Don't worry," he whispers, "It's just hands tonight."

He grabs hold of my hand before I have a chance to say anything and shoves it down the front of his underwear which I wasn't really expecting, but it's done now so there's no point in pulling it out.

"Hold it," he says firmly, so I gingerly wrap my fingers around his penis and grip it as tightly as I dare, because I've heard that boys are a bit sensitive down there.

I whisper nervously, "Is this okay."

Jake nods his head furiously and starts kissing me again, then my hand suddenly feels wet and I wonder whether he's pissed himself, which is just gross. I open my eyes while he's still kissing me and I guess correctly by his screwed up expression and the 'uh uh uh' sounds he's making that he's just ejaculated into my hand.

"Are you alright?" I ask when he finally detaches himself from my lips. I don't know what to do next but I'm feeling pretty disgusted to be honest.

Jake nods his head as he pulls my hand out of his underwear.

"Have you got any tissues on you," he asks. Luckily I have, so I throw my bag at him as I'm one-handed at the moment and he fishes out the bundle I keep in there for emergencies. He wipes my hand and throws the used tissues to the back of the store then zips up his trousers and straightens his jacket.

"Thanks, Bella. That was great," he whispers and kisses me lightly on the lips. "Did you enjoy it?"

I feel like saying, "enjoy what?" sarcastically, but I don't. But I am curious about what just happened because he came as soon as I touched him. Even with my limited knowledge about boys and their nether-regions, I know this isn't normal.

"It was very quick, Jake. I thought boys took a long time to … err … ejaculate," I say innocently.

Jake looks slightly annoyed for a second, like I'd touched a nerve, but he covers it up quickly.

"I told you, Bella, you turn me on. I've had a stiffy all evening for you; that's why I came as soon as you touched me."

"Ah right," I eloquently reply, while trying to memorise everything he's saying so I could go over it with Alice when I see her again. I give Jake a warm smile and a forced giggle so he would think I was flattered I had that effect on him, but I have a feeling there's more to it than that, but now isn't the time or the place to discuss it.

He starts kissing me again and fondling my boobs, but to be honest the moment has gone and I'm not really into being groped in a dark and shitty storehouse. I definitely want to get out of here before something with more than four legs starts crawling up _my_ leg so I purposely don't throw myself into responding.

I can hear the music in the club when the outer door is opened and it's one of the songs they play at the end of the evening. I don't want the others to know what Jake and I have been up to so I make it plain I want to get away as soon as possible.

"Can we go now, Jake," I ask as I detach myself from him. I pick my bag up off the floor and button my coat so he gets the message this is actually not a request but an order.

"Okay," he replies as he strokes my hair as if he's trying to be tender and caring. "This was only lesson one of course. You'll have to let me know when you're ready for lesson two."

"I think that's enough for me to be getting on with for a while," I reply and I know I sound a bit pissed off but I can't help it. Considering I was only really up for 'the hand outside the blouse' tonight, I would say that Jake has missed out lessons one to four and has started at lesson five.

Jake gives me another one of his strange looks as though he doesn't believe me then leads me out of the store room and over to his scooter. I put my helmet on and clamber onto the back and we manage to get away before The Roxy starts emptying out.

We have another brief snogging session near my house which I'm not really enjoying, but afterwards I agree to meet him on Sunday afternoon, as to say 'no' now would be awkward and I just want him to go home. He says he wants to take me for a walk in Greenwich if the weather's nice, so I say okay to that, but I'll make sure it's just for a walk, nothing else. At least tomorrow is Saturday, which is always girl's day, and this will give me the opportunity to talk to Alice about what just happened. I need to get some advice as Jake is moving our relationship on much faster than I intended, but to be honest, I'm beginning to realise I'm not really into Jacob Black anymore.

Jake walks me to my front door and gives me a chaste kiss on the lips which is just for show in case mum or dad are looking out the window. "See you Sunday," he says and I give him a little wave as he rides past on his way home.

The house is quiet when I walk in so I take my coat off and hang it on the hook by the door then scamper upstairs and throw my bag in my bedroom. I go straight to the bathroom, get the nail brush from the cupboard, turn on the tap until the water is as hot as I can stand it then scrub my polluted hand with Camay until the skin goes bright red.

"Yuk," I say and I shudder. "There's no way I'm ever doing _that_ again."

* * *

 **Saturday 4th April 1964**

It's traditional round here that Saturday's are always 'football days' for East End boys. They organise themselves into amateur teams and play each other in the parks in the morning, then watch a professional match in the afternoon at one of the London clubs. After the game, depending on whether their team has won or lost, they either celebrate or drown their sorrows in the pubs on Saturday night. Almost everyone in Poplar is a West Ham supporter, and because the team has made it through to the FA Cup Final in May this year for the first time since 1923, the whole area has gone football crazy, even me. To be honest though, I'm only interested in the street party that's being planned for after the game, not the actual football match.

I get up early to go to the Advertiser with Mike as he's anxious to get this over with so he can meet his mates at the park. I must admit I'm really excited as I don't know what to expect, but I'm pleased to be seeing the editor this weekend; in other words before I've been interviewed for the secretary's job. However I'm not really anticipating being offered employment at the paper today, so why this guy wants to talk to me is a mystery.

Neither Mike nor I have mentioned anything to mum or dad about this as we still don't want them to suspect I was at the coast last weekend. They both read my article but were still not convinced that the Mods weren't to blame. The BBC seemed to take the Rocker's side when reporting on the trouble in Hastings, so Mike and I decide its best we keep quiet about the whole thing. If I'm offered a job I might have to rethink though, but I'll worry about that if it happens.

Mike sets off first on the pretext of meeting up with his football mates early to get some practice in before their game. I leave about five minutes after him, saying I'm going over to Alice's so she can practice her beauty techniques on me, which is not an unusual thing for me to do on a Saturday as I'm Alice's number one guinea pig. I casually walk up the road and meet Mike on the corner then we catch the bus to the Advertisers office which is about a fifteen minute bus ride away.

When we get there, Mike guides me through the quiet, open-plan building, which is very modern but also extremely untidy compared to what I'm used to at the Express. At first glance the spacious editorial office is almost deserted with only two people working in there as far as I can see. Mike explained that the majority of the staff at the Advertiser only work Monday to Friday, which is also unlike the Express as they have a Sunday edition. One guy shouts out hello to Mike as we start walking through the slalom of desks, then he gives me a friendly smile and looks away.

As soon as I get more than a few steps into the room I notice the whole area reeks of cigarette smoke which is something I'm not used to. I have to stop myself from gagging because the stench is so strong. The walls and ceilings are a dirty yellow because of concentrated nicotine, and filthy, overflowing ashtrays are a feature of every single desk. I start to wonder whether they employ cleaners in this place and I'm amazed Mike puts up with it as he is just as anti-smoking as I am, but then I guess he's out a lot during the day chasing stories.

I spot a middle-aged man waving at us from an office enclosed by glass walls and I guess correctly this must be Mike's editor, Mr Johnson, known to everyone in the Advertiser as just 'Johnson'. My first impression is that he's a scruffy, slightly overweight individual with longer-than-usual hair for a middle-aged man and a face prematurely weathered by cigarette smoke. It would be impossible to guess his age accurately, but if I had to take a stab at it I would say about forty-five, but it wouldn't surprise me if he was much younger.

When we enter his glass capsule, he's lounging in a black leather chair that tips backwards. His feet are on the desk which is littered with empty cigarette packs, coffee cups and piles of papers and he's talking on the phone quite loudly. I'm surprised that his conversation is littered with curse words, which is something I'm not used to hearing in an office environment either. He doesn't seem to be bothered about swearing in front of a female so I try not to raise my eyebrows when he comes out with words that would make a sailor blush.

He indicates by hand signals for us both to sit down while he finishes his call, so rather than look as though I'm listening in to what he's saying, my eyes wander around the rest of his office which is a tip. Thankfully I'm not here to apply for a job as his secretary as I don't think I would last a day. After a few minutes of x-rated conversation, I can tell by what he's saying that the call is coming to an end, so I feel I can take a look at the man who could hold my future in his hands.

Compared to the Express's editorial staff who dress smartly in suits and ties, Johnson's clothes could only be described as 'casual', which would still be a generous way of describing them. He's wearing an open necked check shirt, no tie, corduroy trousers and desert boots. The jacket that's hanging over the back of his chair has patches on the elbows and some of the edges are hanging loose with bits of thread dangling from the leather. This could be his 'weekend attire' of course, but somehow I think not. He reminds me of one of the temporary teachers who used to come in to my school occasionally. The poor guy would attempt to teach us sciences for about the first fifteen minutes of each lesson, then he would give up and get out his copy of Punch and ignore the mayhem that ensued in the classroom afterwards.

Johnson finishes the call then stands up, walks over to me and offers me his hand to shake. I stand up as well and shake it nervously as I'm not used to having my hand shaken by anyone.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Isabella," he says with a grin. "Thanks for coming to see me this morning."

"Bella, please," I reply. "It's no trouble; I work Monday to Friday at the Express."

"Yes, Mike told me you worked in the hallowed 'Street of Fleet'. Anyway, Bella, I expect you're wondering why I've asked you to come here."

I give him a friendly smile and reply, "I'm intrigued, but I'm guessing it's about the article I wrote for Mike."

Johnson goes back to his chair, puts his feet on the desk again and lights a cigarette, takes a drag and blows several smoke rings in the air. It's like he's toying with my curiosity, and for an instant I feel like getting up and walking out because I don't like being played with. It's only Mike's presence and the fact that Johnson is his boss is what's keeping me here. Finally he speaks.

"Bella, your article gave me a great idea for the paper. I've been looking for ways to increase its circulation as we need more readers to keep it viable. I've been thinking for a while that the Advertiser needs jazzing up so it appeals to the younger generation. Currently our core readers are people in their fifties and over, so we need to appeal to youngsters who seem to have the most disposal cash. At the moment no-one of your age would consider reading it, never mind buying it every Friday with their hard-earned money. I mean, do _you_ read it on a regular basis?"

"Not really," I respond guiltily. "I take a look at Mike's articles, obviously, and occasionally run my eye over the front page, but apart from that I hardly ever look at it unless something catches my eye, which is usually when I'm folding the pages to make fire-lighters for our boiler."

Johnson laughs and replies, "That's what I thought."

"So what has this got to do with me? You've found your idea, so run with it."

(I'm getting _really_ frustrated by now and I just want him to get to the point).

He takes his feet off the desk and sits upright in his chair then leans towards me.

"How would _you_ feel about writing a regular article every week, specifically aimed at your age group? You could write whatever you like, about any subject you want, as long as it was something unusual which would grab their attention. If it's successful, then we could expand your column to a whole section aimed at teenagers and young adults."

I'm sure I look shocked and I briefly turn to gauge Mike's reaction and his eyes are the size of saucers.

"You mean you want to employ me, Johnson? I've already got a job, and one article a week wouldn't cover what I'm earning at the moment." I shake my head and start rapidly thinking about whether it would be worth me risking leaving the Express for what would obviously be less money to start with, which wouldn't go down too well at home.

"Yes, I want to employ you, Bella, but you would do this in your spare time. I'd pay you for every article you produced. I already have a number of freelance journalists who work for me, and I pay them according to what they put on my desk. In other words I pay for what I print. In other words if it ain't good enough, then no dosh. I'm giving you the opportunity to work freelance for me, as long as you commit to having a finished article ready for publication every week and by Thursday morning at the latest. What do you think?"

I look at Mike again and then I ask the obvious question.

"What about Mike writing the column? He's only fifteen months older than me so he's in the right age-group _and_ he's got more experience."

Johnson shakes his head and takes another drag of his cigarette before replying.

"Mike's more experienced, I agree, but he's already busy with all the politics and union crap that's going on at the moment. This is what he's good at Bella; I need him to concentrate on the heavy stuff for the time being."

"But …." I say, but Johnson interrupts me again.

"Bella, what attracted me to your article was that it _wasn't_ written by an experienced journalist, but written by someone who's out there, who's living the life, who knows what's going on, or more importantly _what isn't going on_ in London for girls and boys your age. I don't want some tired old hack writing the column; I want someone like _you_ ; someone who can talk in their language about stuff that's important to _them_. Shit that old farts like me wouldn't even think of."

My mouth has dropped open by now and I probably look like a deceased goldfish. I turn to look at Mike and he's looking just as surprised as I am.

Johnson continues and he's talking passionately now, which surprises me even more than what he's saying.

"Bella, your article was one of the best things I've read in years. Sorry Mike, but it was. You touched on so many aspects of what being a teenager in London is all about in this day and age, and I think you could do something special with this opportunity."

I'm nodding my head like one of those stupid toy dogs that sit on the back shelves of cars as I'm beginning to think positively about this, so I ask the next obvious question.

"How much would you pay me for each article? I mean, would it be dependent on the number of words I wrote, or something like that?"

"No, but I'd give you a minimum and maximum number of words to work to. Would five pounds an article be sufficient to start with?"

I nearly choke when he says that. Five pounds is more than half a week's pay for me at the moment and would make such a difference to my life. I nearly launch myself over his desk to kiss him.

"Yes, that would be fine." I mumble while trying to stay calm. "Umm, when would you like me to start?"

"This week would be good, but I'd understand if you need more time as this is all new to you. If you think about it over the weekend and let Mike know your decision, he can tell me on Monday whether you can do an article for next Thursday night's run."

I was thinking quickly now and the next question needed to be asked as well.

"Can I still do this anonymously? I don't really want anyone to know it's me. At least not yet."

"Fine. I was going to suggest it anyway as Mike told me about your parents being in the dark about Clacton. I'll think up a name for the column and let you know what it is. Leave that with me. So are we agreed then?"

I try and stand up but my knees buckle under me for a second which is a bit embarrassing. I truly have been knocked for six by this.

"Agreed, I'll do my best to have an article ready for next week and thanks for the opportunity. I'm really excited about it."

"As I am, Bella, and it's been good meeting you. By the way, Mike is one of the best young political reporters out there at the moment; I'm lucky to have him. I'd like to know what your mum is feeding you guys, as I'm sure you're both going places one day."

Mike's beaming from ear to ear and I'm glad Johnson has complimented him. The last few minutes have really been all about me and I felt a bit sorry for him. After saying goodbye, I follow Mike through the offices and out into the fresh, nicotine-free air, where he picks me up and swings me around in circles.

"Effing hell, Bella. We're going to make one hell of a team!"

I scream in delight and then at my stupid brother to put me down as I'm feeling dizzy, and not just from being slung around. I totally can't believe what Johnson has offered me and I start doing the sums in my head as the thought of earning extra money for doing something I really enjoy kicks in.

"Five pounds a week," I say to myself, "and if I get the secretary's job which is twelve pounds a week to start with, that'll be seventeen pounds. Knock off about a pound for tax and stuff. I give mum four, which I could up to five I suppose, which means I'd have at least eleven pounds a week for myself instead of four."

I start jumping up and down on the spot like a lunatic and Mike starts laughing at me.

"Oh my God," I shout out to my brother and the rest of the world, "At last, I'm going to be rich!"

* * *

 **Edward**

I wake up very early on Saturday morning after an amazingly restful night. The Surrey countryside is blissfully quiet compared to twenty-four-hour London so there was nothing disturbing my sleep in the room I've had since I was a baby. After rolling out of my teenage bed, I stick my head out the window to check the temperature of the air and gaze for a moment at the familiar rolling landscape which at this hour is bathed in the soft glow of the early-morning sun. Apart from the birds, who are still in the middle of their dawn chorus which started at around five o'clock, you could hear a pin drop outside.

I've offered to take the dogs for a walk before breakfast, so after a quick shower I wander downstairs and whistle to Bonnie and Fido, who come careering through the house and nearly knock me over in their excitement. They both have proper high-falutin' pedigree names, but I conjured up their family names when they arrived as puppies at Cullen Manor just over three years ago. I thought my suggestion was quite clever, as their names are a mash-up of the legal term ' _bona fide'_ , which is Latin for _'in good faith'_. Luckily mum, dad and Rosie thought it was clever too, and funny, so they were officially christened Bonnie and Fido in a ceremony that included several bottles of champagne for the humans and a piece of raw steak each for the dogs.

The house is still at rest so I gently close the outside door and make sure the dogs are calm before I set off for a long walk. I decide to head towards the path at Blackdown which is one of my favourite places on Earth and apparently was the favourite walk of the poet Alfred Lord Tennyson. Before I hit the trail, I take the opportunity to listen to the silence around me and take a deep breath of the cleanest air in the world, and then I start walking.

Springtime in England is magical, and even though I love the hustle and bustle of London, there's nowhere in the world like the English countryside in April. This is when the first hint of the summer to come warms the sticky buds on the broadleaf trees and hedgerows, and the new greens begin to burst through into the sunlight. Along the wooded path that's stretched out in front of me, the Blackthorn and Wild Cherries trees are already heavy with thick, white blossom. Clumps of yellow gorse and broom brighten up any uncultivated edges in the fields and the roughly mown grass verges are littered with golden daffodils and lavender-blue grape hyacinths. These familiar wild flowers, along with other varieties I can't remember the name of, add a welcome dash of colour to the browns and greens of this stunningly pristine landscape, so it's no wonder poets and artists find so much inspiration in this beautiful part of the world.

The cultivated fields either side of the path are alive with birds and insects and the dew-covered grass in the meadows is as thick and lush as it will ever be. Everything around me looks and smells bright and healthy and I feel fortunate to be here on a sparkling morning such as this.

As I stroll along more tree-lined paths which are bathed in dappled sunlight, a brightly coloured male chaffinch swoops in front of me and perches on a branch, singing a warning to other birds that dogs and a human are approaching. As I listen to his song, the first lines of Robert Browning's poem, _Home Thoughts from Abroad,_ run through my mind so I start reciting it in my head. I had to learn the whole poem at prep school to perform in front of mine and everybody else's parents on Open Day, and Browning's words have stuck with me ever since. It is, in my humble opinion, the quintessential poem about England in springtime, even more so than Wordsworth's 'Daffodils'.

 _Oh, to be in England  
Now that April 's there,  
And whoever wakes in England  
Sees, some morning, unaware,  
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf  
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,  
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough  
In England—now!_

I'm not a poetry person, but these words have always touched this Englishman's heart, and I do consider myself an 'Englishman', as our Scottish ancestry through the 'Cullen' name is so diluted now that I'm embarrassed that my family still hangs on to this label. Even my father is named after an English border town which is a bit confusing. I wish I'd asked my grandparents why they chose the name Carlisle, as it's not one of the family names which have been passed down through the generations, like my name for instance. Mum speculates that he was conceived there, but as both grandparents on dad's side are now gone, we'll never know for sure.

My paternal grandmother, Elizabeth, died exactly five years ago this week, which is why my parents are having a thirtieth anniversary party rather than a twenty-fifth. No-one was in the mood for a party when Granny Lizzy passed away after a long illness. Grandpa Edward lasted less than three years without her, and I still maintain he died of a broken heart as he was only eighty-two when he gave up on life. I hope I have the same good fortune in my choice of wife as Grandpa did, as it was obvious his love for Granny Lizzie was genuine. They had married in 1905 for the right reasons, and not to maintain our family's aristocratic pedigree, which is why I reminded dad of this fact last night.

Bonnie and Fido have run on ahead of me but I'm confident they're safe. They know these paths as well as I do by now and could probably make their own way back home if I fell down a rabbit-hole and broke my leg. So I amble along and turn my thoughts to the conversation I had with my father last night, especially the warning about being ambushed today by the glitterati of the Royal Courts of Justice.

I'm not bothered by this at all, because the only fights that matter to me are the ones I'll have with these overpaid, over-rated lawyers on the floor of a court, or at a tribunal. Because I'm mainly dealing with employment law at the moment, the chances of coming up against the majority of these people is slim. They prefer the juicy, high-profile and lucrative trials that the criminal court has to offer, like the case against the Great Train Robbers in Aylesbury which is currently gripping the nation. That wanker, Giles Fotherington, was probably only drafted onto the tribunal because the docks management thought they'd be up against Jenks, who can be formidable, so they must have thought it was Christmas when they heard I was replacing him. Ha bloody ha!

After about an hour of walking the lanes where I don't meet another soul, I whistle to the dogs as it's time to head home. I'm hungry and I'm sure they are too, so they obey my command without any sulking. The early-morning air is already getting warmer, so my parents have been extraordinarily lucky with the weather for the party as April in England is also famous for its chilly days and frequent rain showers. A huge marquee has already been erected in the garden, but it's much more sociable for the guests to be outside before dinner rather than being cooped up in a tent. My parents had their wedding reception in a marquee in the same garden, but apparently the weather was cold and damp in 1934, (obviously I wasn't there).

I asked my father why they didn't get married in the summer, and he said it was for tax reasons. If you marry before the end of the tax year, which is April 5th, you can claim back tax for having a wife. On paper, my dad was already a two-times millionaire because of the amount of property the family owned, (so stinking rich even by today's standards). When he told me the reason, I burst out laughing; the tight git!

Because of my hunger, I reluctantly speed up on my way back to the house. By the time I get there the drive is filled with cars, vans and various tradesmen who are delivering goods directly into the marquee. Mrs Cook arrives at the same time as me and she's furious because she can't park her Morris Minor in her usual spot, so I offer to park it for her when the van moves so she can go into the house and start preparing breakfast.

While I'm waiting, I'm amazed at the amount of food, drink, flowers and other as yet unopened boxes that are being wheel-barrowed into the garden and I hope and pray there's enough help on hand to sort this lot out or I'm going to be exhausted by the time the party starts. I needn't have worried because five minutes later, a minibus full of caterers arrive and I relax again.

The offending van moves, so I quickly grab Mrs Cook's spot before anyone else nabs it. I very rarely drive a car, so being behind the wheel feels strange but I manage to park it without incident. I take the opportunity to check that Sadie is safe in one of the wooden outhouses then go indoors, feed Bonnie and Fido, then offer to help Mrs Cook with the breakfast.

After eating a plateful of creamy scrambled eggs and a small mountain of fresh smoked salmon, I pick up the list of jobs mum's left for me and start working through them. It's basically making the house drunkard proof, so priceless vases and ornaments are removed from shelves and windowsills, and expensive Persian and Chinese rugs are rolled up and put out of the way in the library which is then locked. The list only takes me about an hour or so to do, so I'm puzzled why mum was panicking.

The guests are arriving in two shifts. Family and very close friends have been invited to turn up between four and five o'clock for cocktails in the drawing room. Other friends and colleagues arrive between six and seven and will be ushered directly into the marquee. Dinner will be served at seven thirty and dancing and inevitable drunkenness will commence at around nine with carriages at midnight, which means I doubt whether I'll get to bed before one. Some family will be staying over, including my mother's sister, her husband and their son, who is my one and only first cousin as dad was an only child.

I haven't seen my cousin for some time so it will be interesting to find out what he's been up to. He definitely takes after the Masen side of the family as he's a bit of a rebel like me and Rosie, in that he refused to go to University or join the Army when he finished public school, but disappeared for two years and went off on his own around the world. The last time I heard about him he was in California hanging out with pop stars like Jan and Dean and the Beach Boys, but apparently he's back now and is working for his father. I'm sure he has some interesting tales to tell so I'll make sure we can find a quiet corner somewhere and share a bottle or three of whatever we can pinch from the bar.

Rosie makes an appearance and she looks fed up already. I thought she'd be bouncing by now as she loves a party, but she says she's suspecting that our mother is preparing to offer her to the highest bidder behind her back tonight because she cannot cope with the shame of having a beautiful daughter that's not betrothed by now and is going to do something about it.

Mum still hasn't got over the shock of Rosie refusing to be presented at Court and doing the Debutant Thing after she graduated from Oxford, which luckily coincided with me getting the job with Jenks and took the heat off me for a while. Rosie is only twenty-three so hardly an old maid, but mum was married at twenty-one, which back then was the average age for a 'gel' from the landed gentry to get hitched and start reproducing the aristocratic species. It took mum just over four years to get pregnant with me though as I didn't arrive until May 1939, which was just before the start of the war.

Rosie and I give each other a supportive hug and resolve to run away together if it all gets too much, (we're joking of course). Mum appears in the kitchen then with her face covered with what looks like royal icing, but is in fact the latest skin treatment which is all the rage and is supposed to knock years off you. She looks quite frightening; a bit like one of those Mud Men from Papua New Guinea. Mrs Cook actually screams when she turns around and sees mum standing right behind her and we all have a good laugh.

Dad doesn't appear until early afternoon as he's nursing a hangover but its best he stays out the way because he would only interfere with the arrangements. I go up to get showered and changed at three and I'm ready to greet guests once they start arriving at four. It starts with a slow trickle of distant relations of varying ages and about ten of my parent's oldest friends, including my godparents. Finally, my mother's obnoxious younger sister, Aunt Charlotte, arrives with Harry, her loud-mouthed business tycoon husband. Following behind them, looking totally fed up, is their very tall, very blonde son, my twenty-one year old cousin, who looks nothing like his father or mother, but apparently is the splitting image of one of his father's old school chums, but nobody dares mention that in polite conversation.

"Hello Edward," he says and gives me an eye roll and a look I recognise immediately as, "What the fuck are we doing here?"

I smile at him warmly and give him a supportive pat on the back then shove a Bucks Fizz in his hand.

"I know exactly how you're feeling, but it's great to see you again, Jasper."

* * *

 **Dun, dun, duuuun! So is Jaz, Jasper? Is that Jasper's secret that he's keeping from his Mod friends? Yes, of course it is, so c** **ongratulations to the reviewers who worked out that Jasper would turn up at the party. I did drop a hint that he was away for the weekend in the last chapter which some of you picked up on. You're beginning to read my mind now. I love it when readers try to guess the plot, but it's infuriating (sort of) when you guys come up with better ideas than mine, as the story is already finished.**

 **Poor Edward is possibly going to get a verbal pasting from some of his father's colleagues, but will his father defend him? Hmmm! There will another sort of drama developing as well.**

 **I hope Bella has some skin left on her hand after scrubbing it so hard. Yuk! If this doesn't push her to dump him, nothing will. Come on Bella - do it! The readers are getting angry!**

FYI

For my readers from across the pond, a **Bucks Fizz** is the same as Mimosa (I'm sure you knew that). A **love-bite** is a hickey (I bet you knew that too). And you call **football** soccer. (We call _your_ football 'American' football). At least the British version of Football is a game where you use your FEET 99% of the time. American Football is more like our Rugby but with more shoulder padding. (Ducks for cover)! West Ham is the most successful East London football team, and they did make it to the FA Cup Final in 1964, but more of that later. (The FA Cup is our equivalent of your Superbowl and is shown on TV all over the world).

 **The Great Train Robbery** happened in 1963, when a gang of about fifteen men stopped a Mail Train that was carrying a huge amount of cash. They escaped with £2.6 million, which is roughly equivalent to about £50 million in today's money. They didn't use firearms, but the train driver was badly injured when he was hit over the head and died several years later. Seven of the men got sentences of 30 years, which most people at the time thought was too harsh. Afterwards, some of the robbers like 'Buster Edwards' and 'Ronnie Biggs', became folk 'heroes' and had films made about them. It really was the (non-murder) 'Crime of the Century' as far as the press was concerned.

The **'Debutant Thing'** is when aristocratic/upper glass girls (pronounced 'gels' by these types of people) were presented to the Queen at Court before doing a round of parties. This was called 'Coming Out', which has a totally different meaning nowadays of course. Basically these girls, (sorry gels), would go to finishing school in Switzerland, get presented at Court, do the Debutant thing (parties/Ascot/Henley/Berkeley Square Ball etc.), catch a husband from the pool of aristocratic/upper class/stinking rich males who were after a wife who wouldn't embarrass them at a dinner party, and then knock out a few aristocratic children that the nanny would look after, and then they would retire to the country to read Tatler or the Horse and Hound all day. Not that I'm bitter or anything!

For anyone who's interested in poetry, the rest of **Robert** **Browning's** poem is as follows:

And after April, when May follows,  
And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!  
Hark, where my blossom'd pear-tree in the hedge  
Leans to the field and scatters on the clover  
Blossoms and dewdrops—at the bent spray's edge—  
That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,  
Lest you should think he never could recapture  
The first fine careless rapture!  
And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,  
All will be gay when noontide wakes anew  
The buttercups, the little children's dower  
Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!

 **That's the end of the culture-fest. Next chapter is the party where Edward meets up with an old flame! (Flame being a clue BTW) and Bella has a long chat with Alice, which is a bit of an eye-opener for her.**

Joan xx


	14. Chapter 14

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 13**

 **Bella**

Mike says goodbye to me at the bus stop near the Advertiser and heads off to where he's playing Saturday morning football with his mates while I catch the bus to Alice's house. I'm absolutely bursting to tell someone about my new 'sort-of' job, and I know Alice will be able to keep a secret. I'm already thinking about what to write for next week's column but I might ask Alice to help me compile an article in the future about the latest hair styles and make-up trends, which is the area she excels in.

I've already made up my mind not to tell Jake about this as I've no doubt at all that he wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut and would boast to his friends that his girlfriend is writing for the local rag. The more I think about our relationship the more uncomfortable I feel, but then I wonder if this is because I'm so utterly naïve about relationships and would be like this with anyone I went out with.

Where Alice lives is a much nicer area than mine. The roads are lined with trees and the open spaces and parks are nicely laid out with well-kept lawns and pretty flowers; not unkempt and neglected like the ones near me. The privately owned houses are much older, well built and spacious in comparison to the houses in my part of Poplar, which has always been a poor, working-class area. My council house is quite near the docks, so the area was an obvious target for the Luftwaffe during the war.

Large areas of housing and local industry were flattened by the bombs, and even though most of the wreckage has been cleared away, the people who hold the country's money in their hands still haven't come up with any plans to redevelop these sites, and I can't see anything positive happening in the near future. The area where Alice lives largely escaped the ravages of war and is now regarded as quite affluent in comparison to mine, but I'm not jealous, as we have a strong sense of community in our local streets. I doubt whether Alice's mum or dad know anybody in their road.

Alice's mum answers the door and she's genuinely pleased to see me. Out of all of Alice's friends from school or college she likes me the best. She's not a snob (she claims), but apparently I'm 'less common' than all the other girls Alice brings home. She says I talk nicely (in other words, not Cockney) and I'm very polite and therefore a good influence on Alice. If she knew what we talked about in the privacy of Alice's bedroom though she might change her mind, but ignorance is bliss and I'm glad she likes me.

"Do you want tea?" she asks as I run up the stairs. I'm about to automatically say, "Yes, thanks," but change my mind.

"Can I have coffee with sugar please," I ask. I know Alice's family drink Nescafe so it shouldn't be a problem.

"Of course," she replies and disappears into the kitchen.

I knock on Alice's door and walk in to find her messing about with a mannequin's head. She's attempting to style its fake long blonde hair into a French plait but isn't having much luck.

"Urrrrrrgh!" she wails. "I need three pairs of hands for this. It's bloody impossible."

She flings the hair into the air then throws herself onto the bed and huffs petulantly, then grins at me.

"You look like the cat that's got the cream, Bella. What's happened?"

"I'll start telling you as soon as your mum brings my coffee up."

"Coffee? Wow, very grown up. When did you start drinking coffee?"

"Ummm….."

I don't know why I'm anxious to keep my meeting with Edward to myself for the moment, because it's no big deal what happened in Lyons and nothing's going to come of it anyway. But if I ask Alice for her advice about Jake and the 'hands down the pants episode', (which at least has made me finally admit I'm not a hundred percent into this relationship), I'm probably going to end up telling her about my feelings for a guy I've only talked to once over a cup of coffee.

As well as being a clairvoyant, Alice could easily work for MI6 or Special Branch as she's so adept at getting information out of people without having to use thumbscrews. This skill is actually quite scary, but at least when she's wheedled the information out of me, she will keep it a secret. So what do I start with first? The Advertiser or my complicated love life? I make my decision.

"I'll tell you about the coffee in a minute, but I'll let you in on where I've been this morning first."

After Alice's mum brings us our coffees, which doesn't taste nearly as nice as the coffee in Lyons but is still okay, I admit I wrote the article in the Advertiser. After I've allowed Alice to get over this shock, I launch into a word for word account of my meeting with Johnson and his proposition.

Alice's eyes get wider and wider as my story unfolds and she chokes when she hears how much money is involved. Alice is wealthy compared to me, but even she appreciates what a difference another five pounds a week would make to my life. I don't tell her about my interview next week though, just in case I don't get it.

I can see her mind working and it's obvious she's thinking along the same lines as me about contributing her knowledge to future articles, which I would be really happy about. By the time I tell her it may eventually become a whole section of the newspaper, she's bouncing on the bed like a five year old on Christmas Eve.

"Oh my God, Bella, this is just fantastic. You're definitely going to be famous now."

"No I'm not," I answer forcefully. "This is all going to be done anonymously. There's no way I'm putting my name to this just yet. I don't want to be seen as a spy in the Mod camp and I don't want any pressure from anyone about who or what I write about. This is between you, me and Mike, and that's all. Do you promise?"

"Of course I promise, but _now_ will you accept I was right when I said you were destined for greater things?"

I roll my eyes then shake my head dismissively.

"Alice, I'm writing for the weekly edition of the East London Advertiser, not the Times or the Telegraph. I'm hardly going to win a Pulitzer Prize for this."

"I know, but it may lead to greater things. You never can tell."

"Okay, well when it does, _then_ I'll admit you were right; not before."

Alice gives me a satisfied smirk and we both end up having a good giggle, probably at the thought of me winning a Pulitzer Prize. When we've calmed down, she asks me about Jake and her eyes narrow when I pull a miserable face."

"Bella, are you going to dump him?"

"Yes...No...I don't know. I haven't really decided what to do. I like him, but…"

"But what?" she says.

"There's too many 'buts' in our relationship" I reply and then I start listing them.

"I thought he'd look after me last Monday, but he abandoned me in Clacton and I haven't forgiven him for that yet.

"I should be able to trust him to keep a secret, like my article for instance, but I know he won't keep quiet about it if I tell him.

"He says he doesn't take drugs, but I've got a feeling he does sometimes, otherwise the boys wouldn't have offered him a pill or whatever it was they were passing around the other night.

"He said he'd take our relationship step by step, but he got me in a clinch last night and we jumped a heck of a lot of steps and I wasn't ready for it."

I thought Alice might start trying to defend Jake and boys in general, but she just listened while I listed my concerns.

"So what did he make you do?"

"He shoved my hand in his underwear and ejaculated into my hand as soon as I touched his….you know."

"Ewwwww!"

"Exactly."

"Do you know what that's called?"

"Does _that_ have a name?"

"Oh yeah. It's called premature ejaculation."

I actually hadn't believed her when she said what he did actually had some sort of terminology attached to it, but those two words accurately summed it up.

"He _said_ he'd had a stiffy all night because of me."

"Oh, so he's blaming you now?"

"That's what he said."

"Hmmmm. Doesn't bode well for a satisfactory sex life in the future?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if he can't keep it up for long, he'll get off and leave you hanging."

"In what way?"

"You know, totally unsatisfied, frustrated."

"Still don't understand."

"I mean you won't get off either."

"Get off?"

"Yes, orgasm."

"Sorry!"

"Oh Jesus!"

"Alice, what am I missing now?"

"Aren't you aware that girls get off the same as boys?"

"You mean girls ejaculate?"

"Noooooooooooooooo!"

"What then?"

"This is going to take a lot of explaining…..let me think. Have you ever felt as though you're tingling when Jake kisses you?"

"Yes, a bit."

"How about down there?"

Alice waves at a position between her legs and I think back to when I walked past the Rocker and my whole body reacted to him. I have to think carefully before I answer this one.

"I have felt something down there once, but it wasn't when Jake kissed me. Can we not go there for the moment; just explain to me what tingling _down_ _there_ means."

Alice cleared her throat and put on a very serious expression before launching into her explanation.

"Okay. If a guy knows what he's doing, he can make you tingle down there so hard that you have an orgasm, same as his orgasm, but without the ejaculation bit. You can do it to yourself if you want, just like boys masturbate on their bits."

I know my mouth is hanging open by now as this is total news to me.

"How the hell did I not know this, Alice? How have I got to nearly nineteen and still be so flipping ignorant. More importantly, how do _you_ know all this and where did you learn it? I went to the same biology lessons as you for Christ's sake."

"My mum told me."

"What!"

"My mum told me everything, about sex and orgasms and masturbation and oral sex."

"Oral….no, I don't want to go there. This is a bloody nightmare."

"Calm down, Bella. I'll tell you everything she told me if you like."

I have my head in my hands by now.

"I'm sorry you haven't got a mum as liberated as mine. I appreciate she's exceptional, but she just wants me to be happy. She says sex is very important between a man and a woman, and she's told me that a woman's needs are just as important as a man's."

I'm contemplating joining a nunnery by now as this is too overwhelming to take in all at once, but I'm grateful I've got a friend like Alice or I'd still be completely in the dark. I just wished there was something that girls of my age could read to find out about this sort of thing, but I can't think of any book or publication that has this sort of sex advice for young women.

"So what are you going to do about Jake? Are you going to dump him?"

"I honestly don't know, but I'm absolutely positive I've got no intention of going any further with him intimately, and that in itself means that this relationship has gone as far as it can, doesn't it?"

Alice nods in agreement and sighs.

"So it's not a question of if, but of how and when?"

"Well, I'm supposed to be seeing him tomorrow. We're only going for a walk if the weather's nice, but apparently it's going to rain all day so he probably won't turn up. He says he's got a busy week ahead which suits me fine, because I've got to write next week's article now, so I'll go with him to The Roxy on Friday as planned. If I've _really_ made up my mind by then I'll probably tell him when he takes me home. I won't do it in the club. That would be embarrassing for him and for me."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

Alice looks at me as though she can see right through me. She has this way of knowing there's more to a story and always gets me to spill before she lets go. I know she's going to question me further so I wait for the killer question which I know is coming.

"Okay, Bella, I know Jake shouldn't have done that to you last night, and he was a bit of a prick in Clacton, but then so was Jaz, but you know as well as I do that's how boys behave. So what has really made you think about dumping him? You were all over him at first. Something's changed, hasn't it?"

I just nod my head as I don't really know how to put this into words without mentioning Edward's name.

"Well come on, Bella, what is it?"

"Well, um, let's just say I like someone else better, so it would be wrong of me to be with Jake if I'm thinking of someone else when he's kissing me."

Alice's eyes widen and I'm expecting the third degree as usual, like who is it, do I know him, are you two-timing Jake, but she doesn't say anything; she just leans over to me and gives me a hug.

"Right, well that explains it. There's no point settling for second best, even if it is convenient at the time. That's very mature of you, Bella. I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks," I mumble. I feel like bursting into tears as Alice has been so supportive. I do and I don't want to tell her about Edward but thankfully she's forgotten to ask me about the coffee so I can avoid that for now. I've got too much information to digest at the moment and I've got to decide how I'm going to tell Jacob Black, the Roxy's alpha male, he's being dumped, which I know is not going to go down well at all. I suddenly wish I was thirty five, married with two kids and a mortgage, and this teenage/young adult shit was all behind me, but as this isn't going to happen I know I need to get a grip of myself and face whatever life throws at me.

I give Alice a hug this time and tell her she's the best friend ever, which she is.

"Come on," I say. "Let's both learn how to do a French plait together and forget about premature ejaculations and revolting stuff like that for the rest of the day. Deal?"

"Deal," Alice replies, and we burst out laughing.

* * *

 **Edward**

At just before six, Jasper and I get changed into our tuxedos so we're suitably dressed for the main event, then we escape from the house and make our way to the garden bench under the Cedar tree with a whiskey tumbler each and a bottle of very expensive Chablis, which will be totally wasted on Philistines like us. Even though we're totally overdressed for sunbathing, we make the most of the gorgeous weather and the temporary lull in the proceedings before the next wave of guests arrive.

As we soak up the last rays of the glorious afternoon, Jasper tells me about his extensive travels to the far flung parts of the world. He's especially animated about the new sport of surfing which is sweeping the west coast of America, and he admits this is what he misses most by being back in the UK, as well as the wall-to-wall sunshine in California of course.

As he speaks about his adventures, I feel very envious that he's had this time to explore the world and I question whether I made the right decisions about my life, like going straight from Eton to University then full time into my career. I've been abroad plenty of times but only for a maximum of two weeks at a time, but I've never bummed around Europe, or slept on a beach in south-east Asia, or broken into film stars' gardens in Malibu and drunk champagne from their outdoor bars while lounging in their swimming pools, until the cops turn up of course.

Jasper also told me about his exploits with girls he met on his round-the-world trip. If I thought I was experienced, it's nothing compared to what he got up to and we end up howling with laughter at some of his stories. I could talk to this guy for hours so make a mental note to get in touch with him now he's back in England.

"I guess life in London's a bit boring compared to what you've been used to," I suggest.

"In some respects yes, but in others, no. I do miss the bohemian aspect of the last two years; not giving a shit about anything, that sort of thing, but I know I need to do something else with my life. I just don't know what it is yet. I'm only working for Harry as a stopgap. I don't intend staying for more than two years at the most and by then I hope I'll have decided what to do."

He notices how I react when he refers to his dad as Harry as it's the first time he's ever done that in my presence, so he responds to my unsaid question.

"I know he's not my biological father, Edward, and I know everyone else guesses that too. One of the reasons I went off the rails when I was a teenager was because I fronted up my real father while I was still at school. He denied having an affair with mum, even though I'm the image of him. When you're fifteen and just starting to look at the world through adult's eyes, you need to know who you are, and his rejection pissed me right off."

I nod my head in agreement as I'm refilling his glass, thus encouraging him to carry on talking.

"I know Harry's a bit of an arse, Edward, but he's been good to me and mum and he gave me a load of his own dough to go travelling. He said it would make a man out of me and I think it has, so I've got a lot of respect for the guy. I hear you're having trouble with your own parents at the moment, so you can sympathise I'm sure?"

"Oh yeah, I can sympathise" I reply facetiously. "Mum and dad are still horrified about my career choice, especially as they'd bragged non-stop to friends and family that their perfect son had chosen to follow his saintly father into Law. They would've announced I'd achieved a first at Cambridge in The Times if I hadn't stopped them."

Jasper laughed at that comment but let me carry on.

"When I finished my Articles, which was about the same time as you were buggering off around the world, the shit really hit the fan and I became the black sheep instead of the golden boy. I turned my back on the gold-plated opportunities which were being laid before the son of the Master of the Rolls and took a job in a tin-pot law firm that handles legal aid cases for poor people, plus employment tribunals for Trades Unions and disgruntled workers. I might as well have signed up with Mao's Red Army as far as my parents and their friends were concerned."

"Are they still pissed with you?"

"Yep! I got the usual dressing down from dad last night, but I'm starting to suspect he actually respects my decision and is just testing my resolve. I'm not saying I'll never cross the fence and join one of the respectable law firms one day, but while I've still got a social conscience I'm staying put."

"Good for you, sticking up for the proletariat and all that. I hope when the Revolution happens they'll remember your leftish tendencies when the aristocratic necks are being prepared for the chopping block."

I laugh at the comment and hope it never comes to this. I'm for equality for everyone, but this is England for God's sake and I'm secretly a bit of a royalist.

I share the rest of the Chablis between our two rapidly emptying glasses and we relax in the late-evening sun enjoying the peace and quiet before the hordes turn up. Jasper has given me a lot to think about, like there's more to life than buckling down to the nine to five and working in a tiny office in a law firm in London. Maybe I shouldn't have blown grandpa's inheritance on a house after all, but used some of it to see a bit of the world before settling down to the banality of Monday to Friday life. But at least I have my bikes, and they give me a great deal of pleasure and excitement, but is it enough I ask myself? I thought it was until about an hour or so ago. Now Jasper's thrown a hefty spanner in the works and my feet suddenly feel itchy. Before he turned up they were planted firmly on the ground.

We've been listening to cars coming along the drive for about the last half-hour and as the sun is going down and it's starting to feel chilly, reluctantly I get up from our bench as family duty beckons and I know I have to make an appearance in the marquee at some point before dinner.

"Once more unto the breach, dear friend," I say to Jasper, quoting Henry V before Agincourt.

"Let battle commence," he replies with a grin then downs the last of the Chablis as though it was beer instead of fine wine.

"Oh fuck it," I moan grumpily. "Let's ditch and escape for a few hours."

Jasper laughs as he gets up.

"Tempting, but where to? Haslemere isn't known for its rocking night clubs or dens of iniquity. At least the booze is free here."

We stroll across the lawn together and enter the rapidly filling marquee where my parents are greeting guests as they arrive. I spot that prick, Giles Fotherington, who is fawning all over my mother, telling her he thought she was my sister for a moment. Mum is totally taking this all in and is behaving like a simpleton, and gormless Giles thinks he's on to a winner here, and then he spots me staring at him and he hastily retreats. I know he'll have a go at me later, but he'll wait until he's got some more of his chinless buddies behind him as he wouldn't dare challenge me on his own, the wanker.

More overdressed County types are pouring in and I spot the heifers instantly. I'm sure the hairdressers and beauty parlours in the surrounding area have been doing a roaring trade this afternoon because I'm almost overcome with the smell of hair spray and perfume. Most of the girls are trying desperately to look like the latest pop star, Cilla Black, who has a ridiculous back-combed bob that resembles the shape and size of a crash helmet. For all the products and spray that are holding the style in place, their hair could probably survive a thirty mile an hour impact on its own and that thought makes me chuckle. I imagine running my fingers through it in a moment of passion, but it would be like sticking your hand in a vat of glue.

"Jesus!" Jasper spits out when he spots the Cilla look-alikes staring in our direction. "Are they all here for your benefit?"

"Apparently so," I respond under my breath. "You're welcome to dive in if you fancy any of them."

"Nah!" he replies. "I'm seeing a girl at the moment so I'm definitely not interested."

"Really?"

"Yep, and she's a hundred times prettier than any of this lot."

I'm just about to ask him about her when I spot the one person I hoped wouldn't be here.

"Shit!" I hiss, as a girl in a revealing, figure-hugging, emerald cocktail dress, who wouldn't look out of place on a James Bond movie set, sashays towards me, her hips swinging provocatively and her unsprayed long red hair swinging behind her. Her green eyes are narrowed and she looks like a cat that's about to pounce but I stand my ground as she approaches me.

"Holy crap, who's that," Jasper whispers while she's still out of earshot but I don't have time to respond.

"Victoria," I say, but with a hint of forced politeness. I purposely forget to use her inherited title which I know will annoy her.

"Lady Victoria to you, arsehole," she responds.

"That's not very ladylike, is it?"

"And you're no gentleman either."

"I never pretended to be."

"Oh yes you did; in Kloisters I recall, two years ago. You came on to me, boasting about who your father was, giving me all the talk. Then you didn't bother returning my calls when we got back to England."

"It was a holiday romance, Victoria, nothing else. But correct me if I'm wrong; I think it was _you_ that came on to _me,_ and if my memory serves me correctly, you broke into my chalet, whereupon I found you stark naked on an animal skin rug in front of the fire. After which, and with your total and very sporting co-operation, we had a few days of fun on and off the slopes. By the way, may I introduce you to my cousin, Jasper?"

Victoria's face turns bright red but I can't tell whether it's from embarrassment or fury. Normally I wouldn't want to humiliate a woman in front of another man, but Victoria had spread some very nasty lies about me, including telling anyone who listened, including her family, that I'd told her I loved her to get her into bed which was absolute bollocks. Her father is an Earl and he could have inflicted untold damage on my reputation and career, but fortunately he had the common sense to contact me through my father and hear my side of the story first. Thankfully he believed my version of events because he hob-knobbed with some of the parents of my Eton alumni who vouched for me, but I knew I'd had a lucky escape.

"You stay away from me, do you hear," she spits and turns to go.

"Like before, Victoria, it was you who came over to me tonight, so I think it should be me saying something similar to you. Oh, by the way, all our rugs have been rolled up and put into storage for the party, so if you intend seducing someone else tonight you'll have to find somebody else's rug to shag on."

She flings her head around so she's staring at me and then mutters the word 'Bastard' under her breath. I'm sure I can see steam coming out of her nostrils and ears and it looks as if she's going to explode. Instead she turns on her heel again and storms off. I notice my father glancing at Victoria, then at me, and his eyebrows shoot up towards the roof of the tent. I'm sure he's guessed what has transpired and I can tell he's mentally tut tutting, but he carries on talking to the group of people who are surrounding him so obviously he isn't interested in my sex-life enough to break away and find out what happened.

"I need another drink," I say and follow Jasper to the bar while wondering what possessed my parents to invite Victoria to the party in the first place unless it was just to keep the Earl happy. Even though I'm tempted to have a whiskey or brandy, it's too early to start knocking back the hard stuff so I stick to wine for the moment. After finding a glass that could contain more than just a mouthful, I head back to the marquee and I'm instantly ambushed by half a dozen Cilla Blacks and a couple of Cathy McGowan's. Jasper is no help as he just stands back enjoying the spectacle while I'm trying to diplomatically beat them away. Luckily I'm literally saved by the bell as the maître d' bangs his gong and announces that "Dinner is about to be served, and could guests take their places according to the seating plan."

Feeling a great deal of sympathy for The Beatles who probably have to put up with this shit all the time, I extricate myself from the girls who at least aren't screaming. After grabbing my sister for support, I make my way over to the top table to sit with my family, plus my godparents, Lord and Lady Deveraux, and the Lord Chancellor and his wife. I remain standing while the ladies sit down, but before my arse hits the seat, the Chancellor lays into me.

"Well well well, Comrade, I'm surprised you have the nerve to sit at this table when you seem hell bent in destroying the class you were born into."

I count to three before replying and I can tell the whole table is holding its breath, but before I have a chance to respond, my father speaks up.

"Gregory! You and I have been friends and colleagues for many years, so if you don't mind me saying, now is not the time or place for that sort of comment. My son didn't choose his parents or his class, but he did choose to study law and work hard to become a lawyer and has developed a mind of his own. Whether or not I agree with the path he's taking is my business. He's his own man and he has principles he's willing to fight for, and I'd rather have a son like him than one that doesn't question what's wrong in our society. So, Gregory, and everyone else at this table, I would appreciate it if tonight you would keep your opinions to yourself and enjoy the evening."

There's a deathly silence all around the table, then the Chancellor huffs as he acknowledges my father, but he doesn't acknowledge me. I can feel the resentment brewing from across the table but I'm not going to let it take away from the fact that my father has publicly supported me, even if he hasn't supported my career. I want to get up and shake him by the hand but that would just be rubbing salt into the Chancellor's wounds, and even I'm not stupid enough to do that.

During the meal I feel Rosie squeezing my knee under the table and I can tell she's fit to burst. I'm still dying to respond to the upper class ignoramus sitting opposite me but for once in my life I hold my tongue and hold his gaze whenever he glances at me.

I occasionally look past him onto the next table where Victoria is staring at me with hate in her eyes. Behind her is Gormless Giles and his buck-toothed, fat-arsed wife, but now he has a cocky expression on his flabby face so it's obvious he's been knocking back the alcohol to give himself some Dutch courage before he has a pop at me. I'm guessing there are other lawyers in here who are planning to have a go as well, even though they're sitting in a garden that they presume I'll inherit and enjoying the bounty of my generous parents. Unfortunately, being privileged and having good manners doesn't always go hand in hand. A small part of me is tempted to disappear once dinner is over, but unlike Emmett I'm a fighter, and I'm determined to stand my ground whatever happens.

Dinner takes about an hour then dad makes a speech, extoling the virtues of his darling wife and the sacrifices she's had to make because of being married to an old fart like him. He mentions Rosie and me, saying we take after the Masen side of the family in that we are rebellious and strong willed, so have managed to stay unmarried as yet despite the best efforts of our mother. He finishes by saying he hopes everyone will have a good time this evening, and also that he doesn't want to hear anyone 'talking shop' from now on, which is a strong indication he doesn't want anyone having a go at me. We all drink mum and dad a toast and wish them well for the next thirty years, which is quite possible as dad is only fifty seven and mum is fifty one. I realise then that they have roughly the same age difference as Bella and me, which is a strange coincidence.

The band has been playing gentle classical music during dinner, which changes to more upbeat dance tunes and the younger guests make their way onto the wooden floor in front of the musicians. I stay put as I'm not in the mood for dancing and Jasper has come over to sit next to me. As my parents and the Chancellor and his wife have disappeared indoors, I relate to him what happened at dinner and that dad had supported me.

The evening is going well but I'm starting to feel the effects of all the alcohol I've drunk, which is a lot even for me. While Jasper and I are people-watching, I spot Victoria heading towards the opening in the tent being used by the caterers. As she walks around the tables, I see her snatch up one of the over-sized candles which are part of the table decorations and then disappear through the gap in the tent. My interest is piqued and I get up from my chair in order to follow her, but I'm stopped by Gormless Giles who puts his hand on my arm aggressively.

"You're a fucking traitor, Cullen," he announces loudly. "You may have won the first battle, but I'll win the war in the long run." He wags his finger in my face and I'm tempted to either bite it or bend it backwards until it snaps, but I restrain myself. The band has just taken a break and I'm aware the other guests in the tent are able to hear what he's saying as his bellowing courtroom voice is carrying across the floor and everyone has turned to listen. Giles continues his tirade, but he's obviously drunk as his words are slurred and he's swaying from side to side.

"This is just the start you know. We'll be back before the end of the summer and those fucking Commie dock workers won't know what's hit them."

"Is that so?" I answer equally forcefully. "But unless you're able to change the laws of the land, wanker, you don't stand a chance in any court of LAW, so stick that fact up your over-privileged arse."

I hear a sharp intake of breath from our audience, but no-one intervenes. I'm sure they're all enjoying the spectacle which is a lot more entertaining than the band. Giles is now dribbling he's so incensed and his wobbling face is about two inches from mine, but I let him carry on as he's making a complete fool of himself.

"Don't worry, comrade, we intend to change the laws, and we'll make sure they're in place before the election, just in case your socialist friends get in, which will be a fucking disaster. _And_ we'll make sure no women are on the bench at the next tribunal. Whoever allowed women to become judges in the first place should be put against a wall and shot."

I'm just about to respond aggressively to that classic example of misogyny when I spot dad standing at the end of the table. It's possible he's heard every word and I can tell by the look on his face and his clenched fists that he's bloody furious. He walks slowly up to Giles and says quietly but extremely forcefully, "Fotherington, I think you've had too much to drink. Either you go back to your table and stay put for the rest of the evening, or you can leave right now. It's your choice."

Giles grunts an acknowledgement and walks unsteadily back to his equally gormless wife and sits down. The altercation has lasted less than a minute but it has delayed me following Victoria to find out what she's up to. Once Giles is out of earshot I quickly thank my red-faced father for intervening and then I tell him what I saw. We decide to investigate together so he follows me through the caterer's entrance and into the garden.

It's now completely dark outside and once we're away from the busy marquee, the gardens are deserted apart from the catering staff running back and forth with supplies for the tent. It's also silent apart from an occasional screech from the peacocks and a hoot from a solitary owl. Victoria is nowhere to be seen, but we both hear a rustling noise coming from the far side of the garden where the sheds and outhouses are situated out of sight of the lawn. Jasper has followed us out the tent, so the three of us creep around the perimeter of the house trying to keep as quiet as possible. As I turn the corner of the building, I spot Victoria crouched on the ground and she's attempting to set fire to a mound of grass and twigs piled up in front of the doors of the shed where Sadie is housed. I see a flash of flame and she jumps up from her crouched position and backs away from the door while blowing out the candle.

"What the hell do you think you're doing," my father barks aggressively.

Victoria shrieks in surprise and instinctively flings the heavy candle in our direction which just misses dad's head, then she rushes away from the scene screaming blue murder at the top of her voice. Dad follows her, but Jasper and I dash towards the shed and I start stamping out the flames with my feet while Jasper picks up handfuls of soil and throws it at the door. Between the two of us we manage to put out the fire before it takes hold and any serious damage is done.

I'm tempted to follow dad into the house and have a go at Victoria, but I decide to stay put in the garden as I don't want to get involved in any confrontation as it's not going to be pretty. She'll no doubt be dragging up our sexual history as a defence and I can't think of anything more embarrassing for her or for me. I decide its best I keep out the way until she leaves, which she's bound to do after this.

As I survey the damage to the door, feeling relieved that I spotted her leaving the tent as Sadie could possibly have been severely damaged if we hadn't intervened, I now totally believe the proverb, 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.'

Another one of life's lessons learned, but knowing Victoria, which I do, intimately, I've got a horrible feeling this won't be the last I see of her.

* * *

 **Victoria's a nasty piece of work and has obviously got a screw loose. As the daughter of an Earl, she's obviously been used to getting her own way, but where has she been for the last two years?**

 **Gormless Giles has made some threats, but maybe he shouldn't have opened his mouth and warned Edward what he was planning to do. Some more party shenanigans coming soon.**

 **Jake has been a bit of a dick, and Bella is disgusted at what he made her do, so she's definitely going to call time on the relationship, but when and how is she going to do it? Alice has also given her a lot to think about as well. Growing up is becoming a bit of a trial for her.**

FYI

 **Cilla Black** was a much-loved singer from Liverpool who became famous at the same time as The Beatles. Her back-combed hair style with a 'kiss curl' was copied by many young girls at the time. She became a national institution in the UK having a 50 year career as a singer and TV presenter. She died very recently.

 **Earl's** daughters are entitled to be called 'Lady' from the day they are born. An Earl's wife is a Countess, an Earl's son is a Viscount and would be referred to as Viscount Linley for instance (the Earl of Snowden and Princess Margaret's son). This is a different type of Viscount than Carlisle's title, as he is referred to as Lord Cullen. I know, it's confusing.

 **Thanks for all your lovely and amusing reviews - you make me smile when I'm reading them. I never beg for reviews, so I'm very grateful to anyone who takes the time to comment on my ramblings. You're what makes FanFiction such fun for amateur writers.**

Joan xx


	15. Chapter 15

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 14**

 **Bella**

I wander home from Alice's at about eight in the evening with a bag full of clothes Alice doesn't want anymore, plus a head-full of information about s-e-x that Alice divulged during the afternoon, and she still says there's more to come. To say it's been an education is the understatement of the year and I can't believe how ignorant I am compared to her. I feel slightly angry because I would still have been in the dark if it wasn't for Alice and her mother, and resolve to raise this problem in one of my articles in future, if Johnson allows it of course.

Being Jake's or _anyone's_ girlfriend and all it entails has started to freak me out, especially after what Alice has told me about sex. I'm still absolutely flabbergasted that I didn't know girls could 'get off' like boys do, and this in itself has convinced me there's no way I'm ready to take my relationship with Jake any further, even if I wanted to. I need to learn more about intimacy before I take the next step and then I won't feel disgusted, like I did when Jake ejaculated into my hand. In the future if I'm with someone I really cared about and freaked if he did something unexpectedly which was totally natural and normal, then I might scare the poor guy away and I don't want to do that because I'm ignorant.

Apart from having to think about Jake and the sex revelations from Alice, I've had a lovely, relaxing and fun Saturday, which is exactly what I needed after the Edward 'highs' and the Jake 'lows' of Friday and the outcome of my meeting with Johnson. Alice really is the best friend a girl could ever have and I know I'm lucky having her in my life. However my mind is still in chaos, even after going over and over the drama with Jake with her, and I still can't make my mind up how I'm going to dump him.

I know I'm winding myself up to tell him tomorrow if he turns up to take me to Greenwich. I'd have to do it before we went out though. If I told him when we were walking he'd probably march off in a huff and then I'd have to get back home on my own. Just the thought of saying it to him is making me feel a bit sick and I know I've got to get a grip of myself.

I stop thinking about Jake and turn my mind to my employment prospects which have improved quite dramatically in the last few days. Until Mrs Black handed me the application form, I was resigned to having to stay in bog-standard jobs with no realistic avenues for advancement at least for the next few years, until I was about twenty-one for instance. Now it's possible I'm on the edge of having a proper career instead, and this excites me but also unsettles me as I hadn't realistically considered myself to be in line for promotion and hadn't actively sought it; I'd just had the opportunity planted in my lap.

The secretary's job would give me a chance to use my brain for the first time since I left school and the work would be so much more interesting, but it's the opportunity to write articles for the Advertiser which is a more exciting proposition and this has come totally out of the blue. I'd always envied Mike getting the job at the newspaper, but had never considered this as a career for me as there are very few female journalists around. A girl would usually have to have been educated privately, or at least would have gone to a Grammar School to be taken seriously at an interview, so I appreciate what a golden opportunity this is for me. If I work hard at these articles, then there could be a chance that Johnson would take me on as a permanent member of staff. If this happened I'd jump at the chance.

My thoughts inevitably turn to Edward and I've totally accepted I'm thinking of him more than I do about Jake, even though I know there's no chance of him ever considering someone like me as a girlfriend. I know what I'm feeling for him is an infatuation, like I have for Paul McCartney, as I hardly know him and I've only spoken to him for a few minutes. But it's enough for me to realise that I want to know as much about him as possible, even though it will come to nothing in the end. If he's the Rocker as well, which I'm ninety-nine percent sure he is, he's an enigma, in that he's obviously leading a double-life and doesn't want me to know about this side of him or he would have owned up to being the Rocker in the pub. This adds an air of mystery to his personality which I find unbelievably attractive.

It's still light as I'm walking home, but the streets near my house are deserted as the residents of Poplar are either in the pub or watching TV. I make the most of my final few moments of peace before walking through the front door, and contemplate everything that has happened over the last few days and try and make sense of it all. For someone who usually complains that life is uneventful and boring, I'm almost on the point of asking the world to stop spinning so I can jump off for a while and take a breather.

As I turn the corner into my street I hear the sound of scooters coming up behind me and my name being yelled. I tense up when I realise it could be Jake because I still haven't definitely decided how I'm going to dump him. Thankfully it's only Tyler who's calling me and he's with some of the other boys from The Roxy, including Eric and Paul. They have their West Ham scarves around their necks so I guess they've been to the match and then for a drink afterwards.

"Did we win?" I shout out to Tyler.

"Nah!," he replied as he brings his scooter to a halt. "Bloody Bolton beat us 3-2, but I reckon our players are saving themselves for the Cup Final. None of them want to get injured and miss it so they weren't trying too hard. There's no way we can improve our position in the League, so the game wasn't that important."

"Ah right," I say as if I know what he's talking about. "Isn't Jake with you?" I ask.

"Haven't seen him all day," Eric replied. "He was supposed to turn up for footie this morning but no-one's seen him. Was he okay last night? We noticed you two left early so we thought he might be with you."

Paul and a couple of the others snigger at this supposedly innocent question, so I guess they were fully aware why Jake and I disappeared before the end, and this upsets me as I presume Jake had told them what his intentions were. One more nail in Jacob Black's coffin I muse angrily.

"Yes, he was fine when he dropped me home. I had an appointment first thing this morning so had to get up really early so it suited me to leave before the rush."

I hold my head up and give Eric the evil-eye, as if to say, "You dare think otherwise," which wipes the juvenile smirks off Eric's and the other boys' faces, but I can feel myself heating up and I'm praying that I'm not blushing.

"Do you want a lift home," Tyler offers.

"No thanks, I just live up this way; my house is over there. I'd better go so I'll see you at The Roxy next week."

With that they roar off leaving me wondering why Jake wasn't at football today. He'd been saying he'd meet them at the park long before we left, so maybe he's ill?"

Mum is watching Morecambe and Wise on TV when I get in but dad is obviously still at the pub drowning his sorrows after the match. I've got no idea where Mike is as usual so I offer to make tea and disappear into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two steaming mugs and a packet of biscuits. Even though I had a lovely dinner at Alice's, I need some sugar in my system and Custard Creams are just the ticket.

"You look a bit morose," mum observes as I sit next to her on the sofa.

"A lot on my mind, mum," I reply. "

"Job or boyfriend?"

"Both."

"Want to talk?"

I consider her offer for a second and think, "What the hell."

"I think I'm going to dump Jake. No, let me rephrase that; I'm definitely going to dump Jake."

"Why, or don't you want to answer? I don't want to pry."

"You're not prying and Jake hasn't done anything wrong or been unkind. To be honest, mum, he's okay, but he's not the sort of guy I want to end up being with for the rest of my life, so I don't know why I'm bothering with him now. I'm not desperately looking for a long-term boyfriend or a husband yet, but I can't see the point of being with someone who isn't 'husband material' in my opinion. Does that make sense?"

Mum looks at me strangely then smiles and leans over to give me a hug.

"That's a very sensible way of looking at it, Bella. He's a good looking boy and very charismatic I'm sure, but you've obviously seen through the façade and what's underneath isn't to your liking."

I nod my head and cuddle up close to her. Alice may have a very liberal-minded, modern mum, but I wouldn't swop my mum for anything.

"Your granny gave me a great piece of advice when I started courting, Bella."

I giggle at the old-fashioned expression, 'courting'. I imagine dad turning up on her doorstep with a bunch of flowers and a chaperone, but I know it wasn't like that. He was a soldier when they met in the summer of 1943 and mum was a wartime bride.

"Granny said, 'you've got to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince,' and she was right, so don't be surprised if you didn't spot Jake was a frog straightaway. Your prince is out there, Bella, sitting on his lily pad, waiting for you to walk by his pond, and when you see him you'll dive into the water head first and join him on his lily pad, and you'll live happily ever after."

"Thanks mum," I say and suddenly I feel better now, especially as I can visualise Jake as a frog when I tell him I don't want to be his girlfriend any more.

We spend the evening watching TV until dad crashes through the front door waving his football scarf in the air and cursing Ron Greenwood, the manager of West Ham. He tries to take his coat off but ends up falling over on the stairs so mum and I have to haul him back on his feet and help him to stand upright. After we've pulled his coat off, he staggers into the living room, collapses on the sofa and promptly falls asleep.

"Oh leave him there," mum says as I try and wake him up. "At least I'll get a few hours in bed without him snoring next to me."

I laugh at the sight of my dad comatose on the sofa with his shirt, vest and a bit of middle-aged spread hanging out of his trousers; not the most attractive look.

Mum guesses what I'm thinking as she picks up the tea tray. She looks at him wistfully and her eyes crinkle into a smile.

"He's still _my_ prince, believe it or not, Bella. I remember the first time I laid eyes on him. He was in uniform and so handsome. I fell for him hook, line and sinker the moment he spoke to me and luckily for me he felt the same. We got married three months later when he was on leave, and your brother arrived nine months after that. Times were tough during the war, Bella, and I didn't know whether I'd ever see your dad again so we lived for the moment. I've no regrets at all, and I don't want you to have any regrets about who you choose either."

"Thanks mum," I say and follow her out of the room. As I leave dad to his sofa and his dreams, he mutters something in his sleep, and it's my mum's name.

"Renee."

And I choke, as I realise that my parents still love one another after twenty-one tough years and I hope I'll be as lucky in love as they are.

* * *

 **Edward**

After the drama by the shed, Jasper and I get a drink from the bar then return to the marquee where the party is in full swing by now. The band has been replaced by a disco and I'm greeted by the sight of my parents and senior members of the judiciary and their wives doing Chubby Checker's Twist, which is not something you see every day. The more agile guests stay on the dance floor for Rock around the Clock and Johnny B Goode, but after that the majority of guests over the age of fifty hobble back to their seats where stiletto's are removed and bunions massaged. Victoria and her parents are nowhere to be seen so I presume they've left by now which is a relief. Giles and his wife have also disappeared which means I can relax for a while.

The pack of marauding Cilla's, now emboldened by alcohol, notice I've reappeared in the tent and start circling like vultures, so I decide to make my escape again as there are only so many ways you can politely say 'no' to whatever they're offering. I swiftly return to the house and I'm seriously considering hiding in my room for a while when I come across my sister being pinned against a wall and being propositioned by a drunk, upper-class twit; the type of spotty faced in-bred that would be beaten up on a regular basis behind the bicycle sheds at public school. I tell him to shove it and he's about to have a go at me then realises who I am, and shuffles off with his tail between his legs.

"Thanks, Edward," Rosie whispers gratefully in my ear. "I was just about to call for help anyway. I don't know if I can take much more of this. Look over there."

She points to another eligible Hooray-Henry who's obviously been waiting his turn, so I get hold of her arm and whisk her out of sight.

"Shall we hide in the library until all this is over?" I suggest conspiratorially.

"Great idea," she replies enthusiastically. "Go and find Jasper and I'll gather a supply of booze and nibbles."

Five minutes later the three of us have locked ourselves inside the library and have managed to get comfortable amongst the rolled up rugs and other pieces of furniture temporarily stored in here. Jasper and I discard our tuxedo jackets and bow ties and Rosie kicks off her shoes then we settle ourselves down to spend the rest of the party in blissful solitude. As Rosie opens the first bottle, she asks what the story is about Victoria as she'd spotted her being frogmarched out the door by her furious parents.

I tell her about dad, Jasper and I catching her trying to set light to one of the sheds and Rosie's speechless for a moment.

"Why the hell would she do that, Edward, even though everyone knows she's got a screw loose. You do know that she's been out of the country for the last two years, don't you? Her parents put the word out that she was at college in America, but everyone knows she's been in some sort of private medical facility because she howls at the full moon. I presumed Victoria was drunk or had been drug-taking again, which is the gossip that's going around the party."

I wasn't surprised to hear this news about Victoria and wondered what her problem really was; in other words did she actually have a psychiatric condition like schizophrenia, or had she been treated for an addiction while she was away. The reason I'd deliberately avoided her after our fling on the ski-slopes was I soon realised she wasn't all there _and_ I'd noticed she was popping pills every five minutes, but I put her erratic behaviour down to her very privileged upbringing. A high proportion of upper-class girls are very adept at throwing a fit if they don't get their own way, but Victoria's tantrums were in a different league and it became obvious very quickly that I needed to terminate the liaison the minute I got home.

"I didn't realise she was still bitter about our very brief fling. It's been over two years for Christ's sake," I muse philosophically. "Somehow she's found out about Sadie as well. Did you guys know she was in that particular shed?"

"Who's Sadie," Rosie and Jasper ask in unison.

"My motorbike; her name's Sadie."

They both think this is hysterically funny, which I suppose it is, but Victoria's actions were starting to bother me and I wasn't laughing.

"Rosie...only you, mum and dad and Mrs Cook knew I came here on Sadie last night, so how the hell did she know about my bike and she was in that particular shed?"

Rosie looks slightly guilty and my eyebrows shoot up.

"I'm sorry, Edward, but she asked me whether you came down on your bike, so I presumed she knew about your hobby."

"When was this?"

"Just before dinner, why?"

I scratch my head as I'm at a loss to know how Victoria found out beforehand that I had a motorbike, which might mean she may know I'm a Rocker, which could be awkward.

"Did she ask anything else?"

"Only if you were seeing anyone, but practically every unmarried female asked me that tonight as well so I didn't think anything of it, even though she's an old flame of yours."

"What did you say out of interest?"

"I said you were holding out for Princess Anne. She scoffed at that, but some of the other brainless idiots out there actually believed me, even though Anne's not even fourteen yet."

"Jesus!" I exclaim. "There's too much inter-breeding among the aristocracy already. We're surrounded by half-wits."

Rosie and Jasper agree, and for the next hour and a half, the three of us verbally tear to shreds the upper-class idiots who are taking advantage of my parents' hospitality in the marquee. As the wine and spirits flow, we make a drunken pact that our future partners would not be chosen from families listed in Debrett's Peerage, as we've no desire for our future offspring to be tainted by inherited mental defects, such as entitlement, lack of empathy, stupidity and the tendency to believe you're superior to the next man.

After a couple of hours of solid drinking, we're aware of cars coming and going along the drive so it's obvious the guests are starting to leave. By this time the three of us are blind drunk and legless. Rosie is proclaiming at the top of her voice that she's going to travel to Nepal and marry a Yak herdsman and bring him back to England. Jasper says he's going to marry a Pearly Queen, so at least she'd be some sort of royalty, and I say I'm going to find a girl who works in a typing pool, who'll love me for who I am, not what I am. I nearly say, "Called Bella," but stop myself just in time.

I try to stand so I can do my family duty and say goodbye to the guests, but my legs aren't co-operating and I end up on my hands and knees then roll onto my side. The thick Chinese rug which has thankfully broken my fall is very soft and comfortable, so I make up my mind this would be a good spot for a nap and promptly nod off, only to be woken not long after by my dad and Uncle Harry, who drag me to my feet and propel me upstairs to my room. I can feel someone removing my shoes and socks and undoing my cufflinks, but after that I remember no more until I wake the following morning with my face in the pillow, still partially dressed, and with the mother of all hangovers.

* * *

 **Sunday 5th April 1964**

Rosie comes in with iced water, tablets and hot coffee, and won't let me get out of bed until I've re-hydrated myself. When my eyes begin to focus, the clock is saying it's nearly eleven, even though it's dark in the room. I then notice the thick curtains are still drawn, apart from where Rosie has cracked them open an inch, but it's obvious the weather has turned and the spring sunshine has been replaced with rain and thick cloud.

"How are you feeling," I croak at Rosie, as she'd consumed mega amounts of alcohol as well and I can't believe she's standing upright and not feeling like death, like me.

"Alright, I suppose. I didn't mix my drinks like you did, Edward, and I drank lots of water before bed. So apart from getting up in the night to pee several times and consequently missing a lot of sleep, I feel okay."

"Lucky you," I respond and drop my head back on the exceedingly comfortable pillow.

Rosie leaves me to rest but eventually I have to get up or I'll wet the bed. I stagger into the bathroom and decide to have a shower, after which I start to feel human again. The drugs and caffeine have kicked in by now and my stomach is rumbling with hunger, so I get dressed and go downstairs where my family, including Jasper and his parents, are slumped in various chairs and sofas around the drawing room. I grunt a 'good morning' even though it's now technically afternoon, and wander into the kitchen to see whether there's anything edible around and find Mrs Cook already slaving over a Sunday roast which will be ready in about two hours.

I'm just about to start raiding the fridge when she opens the door of the Aga and pulls out a tray of re-heated sausage rolls and I nearly weep with gratitude. She makes me sit down at the kitchen table then pours me a glass of orange juice and another coffee from the jug and leaves me to munch my way through a few thousand calories of carbohydrate and animal fat which is just what I need.

After I've taken about five years of life away from my arteries, I wander towards the drawing room so I can sit with the family before lunch, but dad stops me and beckons me into his study. I follow him in wondering what I've done wrong this time.

Dad takes a seat at his desk and I sit opposite him feeling slightly nervous. Before saying anything, he opens a drawer and pulls out a packet of thin cigars and offers me one, which he's never done before.

"No thanks," I respond, wondering whether this was meant to signify that I'm being offered a last cigarette before being stood against a wall and shot.

Dad lights up and takes a long drag before disclosing why I've been summoned.

"I want to know exactly what Giles Fotherington said to you; if you can remember, word for word, what he threatened you with that is. I presume you were relatively sober at that point. I caught the last bit of his speech about women judges and I'm still seething about that, but I want to know what else he said."

I thought back to what Giles had disclosed to me, which I must admit I hadn't taken seriously at the time, but when I come to think about it I should have been more taken aback at what he was implying.

"He called me a fucking traitor to start with, and then he said something like I'd won the first battle but he would win the war. Then he implied _they_ would be coming back at the dock workers and they wouldn't know what hit them."

Dad was nodding his head as if he already had some inside information on this, but didn't say anything to confirm or otherwise so I carried on.

"After that, I told him that laws would have to be changed before he could win this fight and he implied _they,_ whoever _they_ are, are in the process of doing that and would have the legislation in place before the election. Can they do that?"

Dad was blowing smoke-rings at the ceiling as I was talking but I could tell by the expression on his face that he was perturbed by what Giles had disclosed to me.

"I've heard whisperings that the government is looking to rush some emergency amendments to employment laws through Parliament on the last days of the session before the summer recess. They'll get them rubber-stamped by the Lords before anyone has a chance to question them. Practically all the dubious laws of the land are passed in the last week before Parliament is dissolved, so there's a strong possibility this is what they're up to."

I mull over this worrying piece of information which could cause huge problems with the Trades Unions and would scupper the new Labour government if it won the election in October. The Lords were made up of hereditary peers and other peers who leaned heavily towards the right, which would mean repealing these new laws would be very difficult, if not impossible. There would be strikes across the whole country if companies were able to change the workers' contracts on a whim, and the country could be plunged into a recession again which would then make the Labour government look incompetent. Then something else occurred to me.

"Why are you telling me this, dad? Aren't you usually on the side of the bastards who are doing this?"

He scoffed and took another drag on his cigar.

"You accused me last night of not knowing who you were, but I could say the same thing to you about me. I am and always have been on the side of what's right, believe it or not, and I know _this_ isn't right. I agree that the Trades Unions mustn't be allowed to get too much power, but the working man must be protected _and_ respected at all costs."

"Protected from whom?" I asked. "Do you mean our 'class', or Company bosses, or Parliament, or the judiciary?"

"Edward, when will you realise that the working man's enemy is not our class at all. It's the new money; for example men like Harry, who now expect that because they're rich and powerful they have a divine right to change the laws to increase theirs and their shareholder's profits. I know for a fact there are Members of Parliament receiving backhanders from companies to promote their interests. Also, I'm ashamed to say it, there are lawyers, like Giles, who are in their pockets too. Corporate giants now have all the power and they've realised that it's not impossible to manipulate the law to get what they want."

"So what do you suggest I do? I've got no power to stop this if what you're saying is true."

"Somehow we have to make it widely known that the government are planning to do this, without revealing where the information is coming from. Leave this with me for the moment. We have a few weeks to work something out so don't think about it too much. I'm sure you've got enough on your plate what with Jenks being unwell."

"Sorry! What?"

Dad jumps when I react this way as he's obviously just imparted confidential information which he presumed I was party too.

"Oh Lord, have I put my foot in it?"

"Dad, what do you know about Jenks that I should know? I'll not say anything to anyone, but can you be straight with me on this."

"Well, err, I presumed he must have said something to you as he asked you to take on the dock workers case. You mean he didn't tell you why?"

"No, he didn't. He just said he needed to take some time off; he didn't state a reason."

"Alright, I'll tell you what I've been told, but I'd be grateful if you'd keep this to yourself. I've heard on the grapevine that he's been in and out of the Royal Marsden."

"What's that?"

"A London hospital which specialises in cancer, Edward. Has he lost weight lately?"

"No, not that I've noticed, and he seems fine apart from being a bit more tired than usual. Are you sure?"

"No I'm not, but I do know he's been putting feelers out for someone to take over the firm fairly soon. He's roughly the same age as me, but he could be just thinking about early retirement of course."

"Shit!" I exclaim. I'd anticipated Jenks retiring in about eight years' time when he's sixty-five, but not imminently. I didn't particularly relish the idea of looking for alternative employment at the moment, but if the firm folded I would have to focus my mind on this fairly quickly.

"Do you want that cigar now?" my dad asks as a sort of joke.

"Not after you mentioned cancer, thank you."

"Oh that's tosh," he replies and stands up. "I'm fit and healthy according to my doctor. It'll take more than having an occasional puff to finish me off."

He heads towards the drawing room and I know where he'll be making a bee-line for before he says it.

"Right, I reckon it's time for a pre-dinner drinkie. I think I'll get the single malt out of its hiding place and find a good home for a _wee dram_ , as my ancestors used to say. Are you having one?"

"No thanks," I reply as the thought of drinking alcohol at the moment makes me feel queasy. "I'm riding home tonight, remember. Don't want to be drunk in charge of a bike."

I leave the study and go up to my bedroom to sort my duffel bag out before lunch so I can head off straight after. There's a couple of sweaters I've decided to take back with me, so some careful packing is required or I'll need to find another bag somewhere; something I could safely attach to either myself or the bike.

Dad has given me a lot to think about and I'm still somewhat astounded that he seems to be siding with the working man for a change, especially after having a go at me last night and accusing me of costing the country a fortune. I wonder whether he's had some sort of epiphany and is trying to make peace with his conscience. Dad has always been a heavy drinker, but he's not an alcoholic as he can easily go quite a few days without a drink if he has to and he doesn't get the shakes. He's obviously had a medical lately if his doctor says he's fit, but he's at a dangerous age when anything could happen, so maybe he's thinking of his own mortality.

It's strange when you realise your parents aren't going to live forever and one day you'll be the 'older generation'. I shudder for a second as I've never thought of mum or dad being 'old', but they're both heading towards their sixties and won't be around for much longer. As the only son, I'm entitled to inherit this house and the hereditary peerage that goes with it, but I've already decided this is something I don't want; the title that is which goes with the seat in the House of Lords. I could voluntarily pass the title to the nearest male relative on the Cullen side, but men are thin on the ground in our family and it would by rights go to a cousin twice removed who's an obnoxious oaf and my sister would never forgive me if I did this.

I stay upstairs until I hear the call that lunch is on the table so I hurry down. Mrs Cook's roasts are awesome; even better than Carol's, though I bet Emmett wouldn't believe me if I said so. I know we're having beef, but I still don't know what's for afters. I'm praying it's Spotted Dick and custard, my absolute favourite.

The others are already sitting around the table when I arrive, apart from Rosie who is helping Mrs Cook dish up. Dad is filling the wine glasses but I stop him when he comes to mine as I need to keep a clear head for the journey home. I notice Harry allows his glass to be filled right up even though he's driving later on and I can guarantee this isn't his first drink of the day. I spot Jasper's eyebrows shoot towards the ceiling, then he shakes his head in despair.

Everyone except for Harry is still feeling very delicate after last night's fun and games so the chat around the table is quite subdued. Even though I've eaten my whole weight in sausage rolls, I polish off a massive plate of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes and vegetables and still have room left for whatever Mrs Cook brings in for afters.

After clearing the plates, she triumphantly brings in her signature trifle. This is also pretty awesome but really should have a health warning attached to it as it's full of cream, thick custard and sherry-soaked fruit and sponge. I'm just a bit disappointed for a moment but I needn't have been, as she returns a minute later with a bowl of Spotted Dick and a huge jug of hot custard, and puts it on the table right in front of me. I can't stop myself jumping out my chair to give her a hug and a kiss.

"I hope you're going to share," Jasper exclaims when I put my arms around the bowl like a spoiled child protecting his toys.

"Not a chance," I say jokingly, but I knew even I couldn't devour what's been put in front of me.

After helping myself, I pass the bowl over to Jasper who practically has an orgasm when he eats the first mouthful and between us we're able to polish off the whole lot as luckily everyone else is attacking the trifle with gusto.

After dinner I can hardly move because my stomach is so full so I lie down for an hour to recover. When I feel safe enough to travel, I take off my 'suitable' clothes and change into my leathers which now feel a bit snug, then collect my duffel bag and head downstairs to say goodbye. Jasper is standing in the hallway and he looks angry, so there's obviously something bothering him.

"What's up," I ask him.

"Harry's pissed drunk. There's no way I'm getting in a car with him. I don't want mum to go with him either but she's told me not to be so stupid."

"Can you drive his car?"

"No, I've only got a provisional licence at the moment so wouldn't be able to get insurance on the Bentley or his Jaguar. I'm taking my driving test next week thank god. I've got a motorbike licence for my scooter though."

"A scooter?" I exclaim. "Why the hell do you ride one of those things? Get a proper bike for god sake."

"I like my scooter and my friends in London have them. They're good fun."

"Don't tell me…..you're an effing Mod, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am, why? Have you got a problem with that? Ah, I get it now, you're a Rocker, aren't you?"

"Only a part time one, Jasper. I hang about with like-minded people who like bikes. I don't duff up Mods on beaches though; that's just for the nutters."

"Pleased to hear it, Edward. Anyway, I was thinking, could you drop me off at Haslemere station. I'd prefer to get the train into London rather than risk my life in the car. I'll get mum to bring my stuff back so I don't have anything to carry."

I very rarely take passengers on my bikes and I've never taken one on Sadie, but I couldn't abandon Jasper so I agreed.

"Have you got a coat? It's pissing down out there and you'll get drenched otherwise."

"Yes, I've got my parka with me. I'll go and get it from my room."

I laugh when he says that. For anyone in the know who spotted us it would be an unusual sight to see a Rocker and a Mod on the same bike.

Jasper disappears upstairs to get his parka and after we've said goodbye to our families, I retrieve Sadie from the shed and wheel her round to the front door where Jasper is waiting for me. He whistles when he catches sight of her for the first time and I can tell he appreciates what he's looking at.

"That's one hell of a bike," he says enviously. "How fast can she go?"

I'm surprised and delighted that Jasper has referred to Sadie as a 'she'. "Oh, she's quick," I reply slightly smugly. "A hundred and fifty miles an hour apparently, but I've only done a hundred and thirty so far. Do you know anything about motorbikes?"

Jasper chuckles with a hint of sarcasm before he answers. "Oh yes, I know motorbikes _intimately_. A girl I was with in California had a Harley, and we'd tear up and down the Pacific Coast Highway on it so I'm used to being a passenger."

"Fuck me!" I can't help exclaiming and I can feel my dick twitching in my leathers at the thought of a girl riding a Harley Davidson.

"That's exactly what she said to me, so I did, on her Harley, in her parents' garage on a regular basis."

"What! You fucked a girl on a motorbike? You jammy bastard. That's my absolute ultimate fantasy, and on a Harley you lucky git."

Jasper roars with laughter and takes hold of my duffel bag and slings it over his shoulders, then slides his leg over the pillion and settles himself behind me.

"It's never too late, Edward. You've got plenty of time to realise your dream, but when you get a girl to co-operate, just remember your baby cousin Jasper got there first."

"Oh fuck off," I spit, but I say it in jest. However as I kick the stand and roar along the drive at a ridiculous speed, I'm determined to terrify the lucky bastard behind me and wipe that stupid grin off his face. Now I can't get the image of Bella lying across the petrol tank, stark naked apart from a leather jacket and boots. Her head would be resting on the handlebars, her legs would be wrapped around my hips, and I would cover her body with my naked body. I'd thrust into her again and again then watch her face contort as she orgasmed around me. I'd come after her and we'd lie together totally satisfied and hopelessly in love.

As I race along the winding country roads in the driving rain, I'm determined that one day that fantasy is going to be realised with Bella and she will learn to love motorbikes and become a Rocker, just like me.

* * *

 **Do you think he'll get his wish, the dirty devil! (Mops brow)! So at least Jasper and Edward know about each other's Mod and Rocker leanings now, but there's no rivalry as they're family. Edward has also seen another side to his father this weekend, which is a surprise to him. Hopefully Carlisle will help him win the battle against Giles and his cronies.**

 **Bella has certainly learned a thing or two from Alice, who luckily has a very modern mum. She's going to dump Jake, but she's still intrigued why he didn't turn up for football. Hmmm!**

FYI

The first female **judge** in England was appointed in 1957, which when you think about it is really shocking. I was really surprised when I researched that detail as I would have thought there would have been female judges long before that, as the first woman MP was elected in 1918, even though she never took her seat as she was an Irish Republican (Sinn Fein).

A quick explanation of our two **Houses of Parliament**. Elected MP's sit in the House of Commons. Non-elected Hereditary and non-Hereditary Peers (Dukes, Earls, Viscounts, Lords and Baronesses) sit in the House of Lords. The un-elected Lords can throw out any Bills passed by the Commons, except for the ones mentioned in the winning party's election manifesto. Lately the number of Hereditary Peers in the Lords has been reduced to bring a tiny taste of democracy to this unelected House.

 **Debrett's Peerage** is a published book that lists every person that holds a 'title', and also includes a short history on each person named. Debretts was founded in 1769 and also publishes books on Etiquette and other such fascinating titles such as 'Debrett's Guide for the Modern Gentleman' and 'Debrett's Wedding Handbook'. Compulsory reading for the upper classes.

 **Pearly Queens (and Kings)** are East London women and men who raise money for charity. They wear clothes covered in mother-of-pearl buttons, which is where they get their name from. The Pearly Kings and Queens tradition is not that old (for England that is). The first Pearly King, Henry Croft, started it at the end of the 19th Century, and now each East London borough has their own 'Royal Family' and they, along with their helpers, raise a considerable amount of money for charity each year.

 **Spotted Dick** (I know you're sniggering), is an old fashioned steamed suet sponge pudding stuffed with currants. Before houses had central heating, British mothers would fill their children up with these sorts of puddings to keep them warm. Jam Roly Poly was another one, (God, I'm salivating here), and Treacle sponge as well - I could go on and on. It's sometimes called Spotty Dog or Spotted Dog as some people find the original name offensive. Can't imagine why? There's lots of SD recipes on the internet - try it; it's awesome! **Trifle** is basically death in a bowl! Layers of alcohol soaked sponge at the bottom, then fruit, thick custard and double cream, sprinkled with hundreds and thousands on top. It should be classed as a lethal weapon.

Joan xx


	16. Chapter 16

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 15**

 **Bella**

A rainy Sunday comes and goes and thankfully Jake doesn't make an appearance. I'm relieved the weather forecast was correct for once so I didn't have to dump him on the doorstep to avoid going for a walk with him in Greenwich. I'm also relieved we don't have a telephone, as there was no temptation for me to call him and finish it that way either, as I'd rather say it to his face, even though I'm dreading doing it as I know it's going to be horrible.

I stay in my room for most of the day scribbling down ideas for my articles before deciding what to write about for this week's issue. I want to make my first column light-hearted to start with, so I pick a subject close to my heart which is music; specifically the lack of music for young people on the radio and television at the moment. With new pirate radio stations popping up every week, it's clear there's a huge demand for an official dedicated pop music station and I'm going to suggest to readers they should lobby the BBC to ask for more air time, even though I'm sure their pleas will fall on deaf ears. Currently the BBC is run by crusty old men who probably haven't even heard of The Beatles. Actually, that's an exaggeration; they probably think The Beatles are agents of the devil, sent by Lucifer to infiltrate the minds of gullible youngsters who will be damned for eternity through listening to rock and roll. I'll include that idea in my column.

I start writing the first draft of the article while listening to Radio Caroline, which is a new pirate station that only started up a week ago but is already brilliant and in a different league compared to the other pirates who sound amateur in comparison. At four o'clock I turn the dial on my transistor to the BBC Light Programme for Alan Freeman's hour-long Pick of the Pops show, which is the BBC's one and only dedicated pop music programme which is a travesty. For the second week running The Beatles are number one, with _Can't Buy Me Love,_ which is no surprise as they've taken the music world by storm. At number four, with a song called _Not Fade Away_ , is a new band called The Rolling Stones who are causing a bit of a stir. Parents and some sections of the media are getting upset with the lead singer, saying the way he moves is too suggestive and he's a bad influence, which of course makes him and the band more attractive. When will parents ever learn?

I'm just finishing the first draft of my article when Mike knocks on the door and sticks his head around.

"How are you getting on?" he asks, so I toss the pages over to him for his first reaction. He comes in and closes the door then sits on the edge of the bed to read what I've already written.

"This is good," he says afterwards. "This'll make a brilliant article when it's finished, but it's a pity you can't talk to some of the pirate disc jockeys and get their stories."

"That's a great idea," I reply. "Maybe I'll try and do that later on. It's a bit short notice to do it for Thursday."

"True, but you could put feelers out and say in your article something like, 'if there are any disc jockeys who want to be interviewed, to contact the Editor who'll set it up'."

"Even better idea," I agree. "I'll definitely do that, thanks. Anyway, how are you getting on with all the dock worker's stuff?"

"Okay, but it's all gone quiet now. The Union guys think the management will try a different tack to get their own way so they're waiting for the next bomb to drop. There's lots of changes coming to industry in general, not just the docks, so the Unions will have to give way on some things, but these dock managers are bullies, pure and simple."

"Ah right," I say, as I'm still not aware what the original problem was. I know it was something to do with contracts and could have been really serious, but that's all I know so I change the subject.

"What story are you following now then? You seem to be out a lot at the moment and coming in really late at night."

Mike doesn't answer straight away and I can tell he's undecided whether to tell me or not.

"You don't have to say what it is if you don't want to," I add cautiously, but I can't think of anything that would be that serious he would want to keep it secret.

"I'm not able to tell you anything concrete at the moment, Bells," he replies, then he hesitates again before continuing. "I've got a whiff of a really big story and I'm investigating it to see if it's true. It means being out in the evening a lot, but I've got to be very cautious as some of the people who are involved are nasty pieces of work. If I get the evidence I'm looking for, it could make the national newspapers."

"Wow!" I respond. "You will be careful though, won't you?"

"Yes, of course I will. I'm not stupid." Mike looked at me long and hard. "You won't tell mum or dad, will you?"

"No of course not, but you're starting to worry me now. What the hell are you getting into?"

"It's just politics to be fair, but it's also a scandal and could have an impact on the election. I've got a load of evidence already which is in my room, but I'm not going to publish anything yet until I've got a bit more. If anything happens to me..."

"What!" I almost shriek.

"What I mean is, if I get arrested or something like that, take my evidence to Johnson. It's under my bed in a black folder."

I'm really starting to get worried now, but Mike gives me a big smile.

"It's what being an investigative journalist is all about, Bella. I could just sit back and let the stories fall into my lap, which is lazy and a bit boring, or I can go out and find the stories which is what I like doing. This is what will eventually get me a better job in Fleet Street, don't you see?"

"I suppose so," I agree, but I'm not convinced by his argument. Mike turns twenty in June, so he's totally inexperienced compared to most of the investigative journalists out there. I want him to be successful, but I don't want him to take any risks with his life or liberty.

Mike gets up and walks towards the bedroom door.

"So it's okay for me to tell Johnson you'll have the article ready for Thursday then?"

"Yep," I reply as I'm confident I'll have finished it by the deadline. "You can tell him it's about music, so if he wants to get some photos of bands, or the pirate ships out in the Channel, that might be helpful."

"Okay," Mike says and then leaves me to get on with my writing.

I work for another hour or so then get ready for bed. My thoughts before sleeping are initially about Mike getting arrested or worse and then I think about Edward. I wonder how he's spent his weekend as I presume he's got a posh girlfriend. A good looking guy like him would never be short of admirers and he might even be married? That thought had never occurred to me until now and I go cold thinking he may have already found his princess and be content on his lily pad with her. But surely he wouldn't be seeking my company at lunchtime if this was the case, so I dismiss the notion entirely and carry on dreaming about being his girlfriend.

As I turn my light off, I'm hoping that in ten hours' time he'll be looking out of his window when I arrive for work in the morning and then a few hours later I may be walking the streets of London with him, and with that exciting thought in my mind I fall asleep.

* * *

 **Edward**

The rain thankfully eases as Jasper and I race along the winding country lanes towards Haslemere train station and we get there without incident. However I can't get the vision of making love to Bella on my motorbike out of my mind and I feel like punching Jasper for putting the image there, even though it was a typical 'bloke' thing to do and I don't really hate him for it.

Every time I glance down at the handlebars now I can see her staring up at me, her liquid brown eyes full of desire as I ram myself into her again and again. I can feel her slim but strong legs wrapped around my body, crushing my hips as I pour myself into her and then she sighs with satisfaction as her face contorts when she reaches her own climax. I imagine collapsing on her so I can nestle my face between her breasts and run my hands over her bare skin while her feathery fingers skim over my naked back, then she buries them in my hair and roughly pulls my head away from her chest, after which I kiss her passionately until we're ready to start all over again.

"Damn!" I spit under my breath as I know I'll never rest until this fantasy is achieved and I doubt whether such a glorious day will be any time soon, if ever, especially if that black-haired Mod is her Mr Right.

We reach the train station and Jasper clambers off, pats me on the shoulder and hands me the duffel bag.

"Thanks for the lift, Edward. To reciprocate, I'll take you out on my scooter one day."

"Fuck that," I respond while rolling my eyes. "I wouldn't be seen dead on one of those things."

"Alright, I admit a motorbike is more exciting but they're also a hell of a lot more dangerous, especially in London. Just look after yourself and don't take too many risks."

"Yeah yeah yeah," I reply sarcastically. "You're sounding like my parents now. Are you sure you're not forty one, instead of twenty-one?"

"Very funny, you sarky git! Anyway, I'll be in touch, Edward. We'll have to go out for a drink one night."

Jasper walks away and I rev Sadie really hard so he can appreciate what a _proper_ bike sounds like then move off. I've just got to the edge of the station's forecourt when I hear him yelling my name. I turn my head and he's running towards me waving his arms in the air.

"There's no effing trains," he shouts out angrily. "There's a sign saying there are trees on the line between here and London. Bloody British Rail."

"Jump on," I say without hesitation. "I'll take you all the way home if you don't mind getting really wet; it's no bother."

He takes the duffel bag off me again then climbs back on and we set off for London. The long journey is chilly and damp but I don't hurry as I keep Sadie's speed to under seventy for safety. Riding with a passenger completely changes the feel of the bike and I don't want to take any risks with someone else's son on the back, plus the roads are still wet and therefore dangerous in places. If there's standing water on the surface you can't see pot holes until it's too late and quite a few of the guys at the Ace have come a cropper that way.

Just as we hit the outskirts of the city, Jasper shouts in my ear that he's just realised he doesn't have any keys to get in as he presumed he would be coming back with his parents, so I end up taking him back to my place where he offers to get a cab home later.

Jasper meets Tara for the first time while I'm chaining up Sadie for the night then I welcome him into my home. I tell him to dry himself off in front of the electric fire and make himself comfortable while I change out of my leathers and get some dry clothes on. As I'm pulling on jeans and a sweater, I remember I don't have any proper food in the house and there won't be any shops open as its Sunday, which is doubly annoying. Despite overeating at lunchtime, the bike ride has made me hungry again and I admit this to Jasper when I go in the living room. Without asking permission, he runs downstairs to the kitchen and starts going through my cupboards and fridge and miraculously finds enough ingredients to make pancakes. I leave him to get on with it while I open some beers.

I take a seat at the breakfast bar and watch him as he makes the batter, following which he expertly produces an impressive pile of American-style pancakes in about fifteen minutes, which is something I could never do as I'm hopeless at cooking. I congratulate him on his culinary skills as I'm pouring golden syrup over my third awesome pancake hoping he might make some more but he's used the last drop of milk. As the final morsel passes my lips, I ask him where he learned to cook.

"I had to while I was travelling," he replies slightly wistfully. "I lived in hostels in Europe and Asia where you bought your own food and cooked it in communal kitchens. In California, for about six months I lived with about twenty people in a shared house just outside of Santa Barbara, where everyone mucked in, boys and girls. There was none of the 'girls do the cooking, boys put out the trash' crap; everyone was expected to share the chores or you got kicked out."

"Sounds amazing and fun," I sighed enviously. "It must've been so different from what you were used to though and difficult to walk away from. I mean, how are you coping being at home with your mum and Harry now?"

"It's very difficult to be honest. It's not their fault though. Mum still treats me like a kid, even though I've been around the world, and Harry … well, I think Harry doesn't like having another man in the house, which is possibly why he gave me a stack of money two years ago to go travelling with. I'm sure it was a way of getting me to leave home after I left school but I wasn't planning on staying anyway. Boarding school detaches you from real life; I'm sure you understand that feeling?"

I nod my head in agreement as I went straight from boarding at Eton to boarding at Cambridge. I only went home for brief periods from the age of eighteen onwards, as my intention was to live and work in London and not to vegetate in leafy Haslemere. Jasper continued.

"I really need to get my own place now or find someone to share with as this is the longest I've been home since I was twelve."

I was tempted to offer him my spare bedroom on a temporary basis but I needed to think it through as I like my space and independence. If I charged him rent, that would help my financial situation, but I'd have to be absolutely positive it was worth giving up my solitary lifestyle first so I diverted the subject quickly.

"You said you were seeing someone. Can't you move in with her?"

Jasper laughed and shook his head. "No, not really. I've only been with her for just over a month. She lives with her parents who seem pretty cool, but not _that_ cool. Alice has only just turned eighteen so still very young."

"Where did you meet her?"

"In a pub in the East End. I was out with some guys I met through work. They're Mods and I've started to go around with them, which is why I have a scooter and go to their clubs. They play awesome music I don't hear anywhere else in London. You should come sometime."

I shrug my shoulders as mixing with a crowd of Mods was not my idea of a great evening, and the chances of ending up at the same club as Bella would be a million to one. And then I remembered bumping into her in the Coach and Horses miles away in Essex, so maybe the odds were slightly shorter than that. Jasper continued.

"We were having a drink in the pub after doing a job in the East End, when a crowd of girls from the local college came in after their classes had finished and the boys knew one of them. She came over and we started talking and I asked her out, there and then. We just sort of clicked."

"Is it serious?"

Jasper hesitated and gave my question some thought before replying.

"I suppose it is as I like her a lot, more than any other girl I've been with."

He went quiet again for a moment but when he started talking, it was like he was repeating words he'd thought about previously, or had already said to someone else.

"I genuinely wasn't looking to have a long-term relationship as I had no intention of getting tied down at my age, but she's incredible. I've never met anyone like her. She's so bubbly and full of life and has such a positive attitude that you can't help smiling when you're with her. Her eyes light up when she sees me and I've never been so happy and content with a girl, even though our relationship is still in the early stages."

"Wow!" I say, and I'm surprised that Jasper has been so forthcoming, but he hadn't finished.

"I feel as though she really _knows_ me, if you get what I mean. I feel anxious when we're apart as I don't like being away from her for long. She's always on my mind, so this weekend's been torture."

"Crikey," I say. "Sounds like you've got it bad. Is she really that special?"

Jasper nodded. "If I had to describe her in one word I would say she 'sparkles', like she was made out of diamonds and then sprinkled with fairy dust."

"Like a Pearly Queen," I interrupt, remembering what Jasper said in his drunken proclamation about who he was going to marry.

"Yes," he agreed. "She's my Pearly Queen, from the East End."

"Cor Blimey!" I respond in a Cockney accent, which sets us both off laughing.

"What about you, Edward. Are you seeing anyone at the moment?"

"No," I reply. "I haven't got time for girlfriends, but don't you remember what Rosie said, I'm holding out for Princess Anne? Were you too drunk by then to remember?

Jasper nearly chokes on his beer when I say that and howls with laughter.

"Christ, she's still a kid," he splutters. "That means no sex until you're about thirty. What the fuck?"

"Yeah well, I do have a friend who's very obliging. In other words there's a girl and we have a sort of 'arrangement', in that we both like sex without all the relationship type stuff that goes with it. I'm not proud of it but it suits me at the moment."

"So sex but no love, I'm sorry to hear it."

"Yeah well, like you, I'm not looking to settle down just yet. Maybe in a few years' time it'll feel like the right time."

"Or if the right girl comes along when you least expect it. I wasn't looking for Alice. She just suddenly appeared in my life without warning and it was like I'd been struck by a bolt of lightning. If the same happens to you, don't dismiss it because 'it isn't the right time'. Love doesn't work that way."

I take a long drink of beer while I contemplate Jasper's wise words, even though I still cannot believe he's actually fallen in love at the age of twenty-one, and after only knowing this 'Alice' for five or so weeks. I think about Bella, who suddenly appeared in my life and it was like I'd been struck by lightning as well. However I didn't really know _her_ at all, so I can't even consider that what I'm feeling for her is love. She's beautiful and intriguing, but until I discover more about her, I cannot believe this is love in the proper sense of the word. But when I see her, my body aches and my heart pounds in my chest, so I'm ready to admit I'm _in_ _lust_ for the first time ever, which is an odd but not unpleasant feeling.

I offer Jasper another beer and a bed for the night which he eagerly accepts. He phones home at about ten to let his mum and Harry know where he is and also to check they got back safely, which they had. We both go to bed at about eleven and I tell him to sleep-in if he likes and to let himself out in the morning.

As I lie in bed trying in vain to get to sleep, images of Bella appear behind my eyelids and I visualise her in all sorts of scenarios. On my bike in leathers, on my bike naked, in my bed naked, on my kitchen counter naked, in my shower naked. My throbbing dick is aching but there's nothing I can do about it with Jasper in the next room, so I toss and turn for at least an hour trying to switch off which I eventually do, but my dreams are strangely not about Bella, but of Victoria. She's advancing towards me with demonic eyes and her hands outstretched as though she's preparing to strangle me. I feel her fingers around my throat and I'm gasping for breath and I wake up panting and sweating, half off the bed with my arms in the air as though I'm trying to beat her away, then I collapse onto my pillows wondering what the hell just happened.

I look at the clock and it's just before three in the morning. Apart from the distant noise of traffic on the High Street, this part of Kensington is silently sleeping and I can hear Jasper snoring gently in the next room. As I roll over to the cooler side of the bed I hear a noise outside, but then I'm not sure whether it's the bed moving as I shuffle about. I lie absolutely still for about a minute and I hear the noise again; it's like a scraping sound and it seems as though it's coming from directly below my window. I wonder whether this is what woke me as I'm usually like a dead thing once I get to sleep, so I know I won't rest until I take a look.

I carefully slide out of bed and creep towards the window as silently as possible. Trying not to move the curtains, I slip underneath the fabric so I can emerge next to the glass. I can still hear movement below me, so remaining crouched and half-hidden, I reach up and wrap my fingers around the window handle then gently ease it open.

I jump up and stick my head through the opening and spot someone trying to force open the stable doors with a piece of bent metal. Whoever it is is tall and slim and completely dressed in black clothing with a Balaclava style hood covering his head and face. I watch him struggling with the lock for about five seconds then I yell out.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He drops the piece of metal in shock then without looking up to see where the voice is coming from, he sprints away and disappears around the corner. I pull on the jeans I was wearing earlier and run downstairs then pull my boots on which are by the front door. I fling the door open and race up the street and skid around the corner, just in time to see a car disappearing in the distance. It doesn't stop as it reaches the junction but turns left at speed. I hear the sound of screeching brakes and a loud bang so it's obviously hit something. I carry on running at full pelt towards the junction expecting to see a wreck, but when I get there the road is deserted, apart from a Council dust cart and a dustbin on its side in the middle of the road.

"Fuck!" I yell at the top of my voice and get a strange look from the Council workers who are collecting rubbish, and are obviously wondering why a half-naked man is standing in the middle of Kensington High Street at three o'clock in the morning. Defeated, I turn around and jog back to the house where Jasper is standing in the doorway in his underwear looking confused.

"What the hell's going on?" he asks sleepily.

"I heard someone trying to break into the stable," I reply angrily. "I've just chased the bastard up the road."

"You didn't catch him then?"

"Obviously not!" I huff.

I pick up the piece of metal and check the locks on the door, but apart from some marks on the paintwork there's no other damage. I take the decision not to call the police as frankly there's no point, as I wouldn't be able to describe the person or the car, then tell Jasper to go back to sleep. After locking the front door, I follow him upstairs and collapse on the bed.

As I lie there thinking about what just happened, I'm first of all worried that someone obviously knows I've got valuable bikes in my garage and was attempting to steal one of them. Secondly, I'm torn between calling work tomorrow to ask for the day off so I can sort out having an alarm fitted, or risking it and waiting until the weekend to do it so I can see Bella at lunchtime. In the end, I make the decision to get an alarm fitted as soon as possible as I would be devastated if Sadie or Tara were stolen, so I kick my jeans off and try and get some sleep.

* * *

 **Monday 6th April 1964**

I wake up again at seven and have a shower as quietly as possible in order not to disturb Jasper, but he staggers from his room as I'm emerging from the bedroom after getting dressed.

"Morning," he says sleepily.

"Morning," I reply, then head downstairs to make some breakfast and then I remember Jasper used the last of the eggs last night.

Jasper joins me five minutes later and slumps over the breakfast bar.

"Didn't you sleep well," I ask him.

"Yeah, I slept fine, thanks, apart from the disturbance last night. I'm not a morning person, as you can see."

"Ah right," I say, and shove a cup of black coffee under his nose because he used all the milk as well.

"Thanks," he mutters. "So are you going to work now?"

"No, I'm taking the day off to get an alarm fitted for the house. Bit of a bugger really as I need to be in today."

"That's okay, I'll sort it for you," he replies. "Harry's maintenance staff fit alarms all the time; I'll get them to come over and fix you up with a top of the range one. It won't cost you a bean."

"Are you sure," I gratefully respond. I'd totally forgotten Harry was a high-end property developer and could help me out.

"Absolutely. I'll stay here and make some phone calls and you can go to work."

"Fantastic," I reply. "I'd better get changed into my work clothes then.

I shoot upstairs and fling on the first shirt and suit I lay my hands on and grab a tie. Luckily they match so I'm back downstairs five minutes later. I get my wallet out and throw some money and a spare front door key at Jasper. "Can you go shopping and get some supplies. There's a small supermarket on the main road and a new Deli has opened opposite. I'd be grateful."

"Sure," he replies in the middle of a yawn. "Now just piss off and let me wake up properly. I'll see you this evening."

I've left the house only about ten minutes late so I half walk/half jog to the station and luckily get a train straightaway. London Transport is working well this morning with no delays, so I get to Blackfriars only five minutes later than usual. I walk as quickly as possible along Fleet Street, still hoping I can see her before work because I need my Bella-fix.

As I reach the office door, a bus pulls up on the opposite side of the road and I just know without looking Bella will be on it. I sprint across the road and wait for the passengers to alight, and sure enough she's there. As she gets off the bus her eyes are looking towards my doorway, almost as though she's hoping to see me there, but when her disappointed eyes rest on me they light up and she smiles the most radiant of smiles.

"Hello Edward," she says. "Did you have a nice weekend?"

"Lovely thanks, how about you?"

"Not bad, but not very exciting either. Are you able to get away at lunchtime?"

"I hope so; it depends whether my boss is in or not. I tell you what, if I can get out I'll lean a book against my window. If you see it there, you'll know I'll be waiting for you around the corner."

"Okay, that's a good idea," she replies and giggles. "I've got to go; hopefully see you later then."

"Okay, Bella. Have a good morning."

"I doubt it," she replies and then laughs that lovely tinkle-y laugh.

I watch her as she quickly walks towards the steps and she's soon surrounded by her colleagues who are all pleased to see her. I sigh as I cross the road again and put my hand on the door, but before I step inside I look back at her as she's climbing the steps and then I wonder how the hell I'm going to get any work done this morning.

* * *

 **Bella**

Sue pounces on me straightaway.

"Who was that you were talking to? He's really handsome."

I have to think quickly so I give her a half-truth.

"You remember I had tea spilt on me on Friday? He was there and helped me clean myself up."

"Wow! I'll have to remember to try that trick."

"Yeah it's a good one. See a good looking guy and get someone to throw a drink all over you. Works every time."

Sue laughs and gives me a playful nudge as we walk up the steps. "How was your weekend? Did you see Jake?"

"Only on Friday, then I saw a friend on Saturday and stayed in on Sunday because the weather was so awful. How about you?"

"Boring as usual. I need to get a boyfriend so I'll try the drink-trick and see if that works."

We're both giggling as we walk through the foyer but I look over my shoulder and see that Edward is still watching me. For the first time since meeting him in Lyons, the feeling that he's looking at me with more than just a friendly eye springs into my heart and it starts to race at an alarming speed. I can feel my temperature starting to rise and my face begins to burn up, just like my poor mum when she's having a menopausal hot flush.

I follow Sue like a sheep into the cloakroom as I'm not concentrating on where I'm going and I make two attempts to hang my raincoat up, but my hands are shaking so much I can't co-ordinate my brain to work my fingers and end up dropping it on the floor. I bend over to pick it up and as I start to straighten, Doreen deliberately bumps into me hard which sends me flying. On the way down, I hit my head on a fire extinguisher then land on my elbow before the rest of me hits the floor. The next thing I know, Sue is yelling at Doreen and Mrs Black is running into the cloakroom to see what all the fuss is about.

"You did that on purpose," Sue accuses Doreen. "You had plenty of room to walk around her, you nasty bitch."

"I didn't know she was going to bend over in front of me, the stupid cow," Doreen retorts. "Look at her; pathetic little Bella, on the floor where she belongs."

"Enough!" Mrs Black barks at Doreen. Get to your desk, Doreen Delaney; I'll deal with you later. You too, Sue, and everyone else. I'll look after Bella.

Everyone scurries out the cloakroom and Mrs Black offers me her hands and pulls me onto my feet. "Are you alright," she asks kindly.

"Yes, I'm fine," I respond but my voice sounds shaky, even to me. "Just a bit shocked," I add.

Mrs Black leads me over to a chair and insists I sit down for a moment. "You can go to your desk when you're ready, Bella. I'll speak to Doreen at break time; she needs taking down a peg or two. Anyway, did you and Jacob have a nice weekend? I hardly saw him at all."

"I only saw Jake, I mean Jacob, on Friday, Mrs Black. He was supposed to come over on Sunday, but he didn't turn up."

"Really?" she said sounding surprised. "He said he was…." And then she stopped mid-sentence. "Well, maybe I got it wrong. As I said, you come in when you're ready, and if Doreen says anything to you, then she's out on her ear. Okay?"

"Okay, thanks Mrs Black," I reply gratefully.

After she leaves the cloakroom, I get myself a drink of water then brush my clothes down as the floor isn't exactly spotless. I feel okay to go to my desk, but I take advantage of Mrs Black's offer and sit down again so I can think about what she said about Jake. He's definitely hiding something, but to be honest I don't care anymore. However I'm glad my interview for the secretary's job is on Wednesday, so I can get it out of the way before I dump him without having to worry about any repercussions. I know it's mercenary of me to think like that, but I have to look after myself now, and I can't worry about how Mrs Black is going to react towards me dumping her son, even though she promised she wouldn't hold it against me if the romance failed.

I pick my bag up and walk into the typing pool with my head held high. By Thursday I could be on my way out of this place and Doreen won't be able to call me 'pathetic' anymore; in fact I'll have great pleasure in rubbing her nose in it at the earliest opportunity, that's if I get the job of course. Also, my first proper article for the Advertiser should be complete and on its way to the Press by Thursday afternoon, and I'm going to make damn sure it's a corker. Finally, by the end of the week, I hopefully should have got to know Edward a little bit better so I might be able to gauge whether he's interested in me romantically, or whether this notion is still a pipe-dream. Out of all three prospects, my hoped for relationship with Edward is the one that excites me the most and I pray I don't do or say anything stupid when I meet him at lunchtime.

Three hours, sixteen minutes and I don't know how many more seconds to wait. Oh jeepers!

* * *

 **So, they are going to spend some quality time together at last (okay only 45 minutes but it's a start). If Bella is going to take him on one of her walks, I wonder where they're going to end up. She knows plenty of secret alleyways, so maybe...!**

 **Mike's story is getting interesting - it makes you wonder what he's up to. He's desperate to make it as an investigative reporter, but he could be taking risks because of his inexperience.**

 **Someone's found out about Edward's bikes, so he's fuming about that. Jasper's making himself at home in Edward's pad, so maybe he might move in - now that would be fun, especially if he brought Alice home.**

FYI

The **Pick of the Pops** programme is still running, but obviously it isn't called that now. It's just called 'The Chart Show', where the BBC plays the top twenty in order. It's a bit old hat now as downloads have taken over the music world. The BBC were still in the dark ages in the early 1960's. I may have mentioned this before, but it wasn't until 1967 before they launched their dedicated pop music station, Radio 1. (How original).

I've had a guest review about whether **The Pill** was available in 1964. It was, (from 1961), but would normally only be prescribed by a GP. Also, it was generally only given to married women as the government didn't want to encourage promiscuity. If a single girl under the age of 21 asked for it, the GP could inform the girl's parents without breaking the Hippocratic Oath, as the girl was 'under the age of consent', i.e. technically a minor, so very few girls asked for it. It wasn't until 1967 that the NHS allowed the Family Planning Association, who ran birth control clinics, to give 'advice' to unmarried women, who then had to buy The Pill from them on private prescription. It wasn't until 1974 that family planning clinics were _legally_ allowed to prescribe The Pill free through the NHS to single women.

I hope that clears this up - if anyone knows any different, please let me know as I like my stories to be accurate. I've only gone by what is on the internet. Of course I was a good girl back in the 1970's, so knew nothing about all this sort of stuff until my wedding day in 1978 (cough cough)!

(Joan blushing furiously as her nose gets longer and longer) xx

 **Next time it's Edward and Bella's first lunchtime 'date'.**

Joan xx


	17. Chapter 17

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 16**

 **Edward**

I keep watching Bella as she walks up the steps with her colleagues and, like always, she's always the last to go through the heavy glass doors. I realise I'm actually holding my breath as she disappears from view for a second due to the Art Deco glass and metal design on the doors, but then I see her turn slightly and look for me and I'm relieved. I can't make out her facial features because of the distortion in the glass, but I hope she smiles when she sees that I've waited a moment before I go in. I totally accept I'm behaving like a love-sick fool, so I mentally slap myself around the face to shake myself into work-mode before I step inside my building.

Jane greets me as I enter the foyer and Margaret pops her head around her office door.

"How are you and how's your back?" I ask as I'm genuinely concerned for Margaret's welfare.

"Not too bad, Mr. Cullen. I'm on some strong painkillers so I'll see how I go," she replies with a smile.

It's obvious to me she's putting on a brave face so I resolve to talk to her confidentially and find out how she _really_ is and whether she can get some assistance with her mother's care.

"Well don't overdo it, Margaret, and I'll make my own tea today. I don't want you running up and down the stairs."

Margaret gives me another broad smile and I know damn well there'll already be tea waiting for me on my desk as usual. She is an absolute superstar.

I make my way upstairs and notice that Jenks' office door is slightly ajar which means he must be in as he locks his office at the end of every day. He shouts out to me as I walk past.

"Edward, can you come in when you've taken your coat off. You can bring your tea in with you."

I call out "okay", dump my stuff and grab my tea, but shove a biscuit in my mouth before going in as I haven't eaten anything this morning and my stomach is rumbling.

I can't stop myself from studying Jenks' face when I take the seat in front of him as I'm looking for signs of cancer, but I don't spot anything untoward. All I see is a man who looks tired, as though he hasn't slept for a week, so there's definitely something on his mind. I patiently wait for him to speak and take a sip of my tea while he gets up and closes the door.

"First of all, Edward, congratulations on your success at the tribunal last week. I think both you and I realise this is only the first of many battles, but we'll do our best to ensure the dock workers are treated fairly and that the law isn't manipulated to be used against them. I'll talk about it more with you later, but there's something I want to discuss with you first and it has to remain totally confidential."

"Yes, sir," I say nervously, wondering why it's only me who's being trusted with whatever's on his mind. Jenks clears his throat before he continues but I can tell he's struggling to hide the emotion in his voice when he divulges the reason for his absence.

"My wife has cancer, Edward, but the doctors are very hopeful they've caught it in time. She underwent major surgery on Wednesday morning and is recovering well in the Royal Marsden, but she has a long haul ahead of her and will need a lot of care and recuperation in the next few months, as well as more treatment - some of which is quite revolutionary. Our daughters will help out initially, but they have young families and I cannot ask them to abandon their husbands and children to look after their mother full time, so it's for this reason I've decided to retire much earlier than I planned."

"Oh, right," I respond. "I'm so sorry to hear about your wife; please give Mrs Jenks my best wishes for a full recovery."

"Thank you, Edward. I'll pass your message on. Anyway, I'm not saying anything to the staff for the moment as I want as few people as possible to know. The only other person who knows about my wife is Margaret. I telephoned her at the weekend and spoke to her again briefly this morning."

I was more than slightly dumfounded by this statement as I was the newest member of the team and was about to ask why Jenks was confiding in me and not the others, when he answered my question before it left my lips.

"I suppose you're wondering why I'm only telling you, Edward."

"Yes, sir. I must admit I'm surprised, but also flattered that you're taking me into your confidence."

"It's for a combination of reasons, but primarily I know I can trust you to keep a secret and also I know you're committed to this law firm, even more so than John or Simon, who to be frank are only working here because they couldn't get a better job elsewhere."

I chuckle at that statement because I knew it to be true as they'd confided the same to me. Jenks continued.

"To be honest, Edward, you remind me of myself when I first started out on my legal journey nearly forty years ago. I was passionate about the law being applied fairly to every strata of society and admittedly there's been a great deal of progress since the 1920's, but not nearly enough. There's still a huge amount of injustice in all aspects of the lives of working people and I know you feel just as angry about this as I do, which is remarkable given your youth, your education and your inherited social status."

"Thank you, Mr Jenks," I mumble. "If you could've heard the ear-bashing I got from my father and his friends this weekend you would've been really furious."

"Ah, Carlisle Cullen, the Master of the Rolls. Whatever you think of him, Edward, he's a decent man and probably the fairest Appeal Court judge this country's had for about two hundred years. He's still an aristocrat though; well he's in the minor league of the aristocracy, but he does have an hereditary seat in the House of Lords, as you will one day, young man."

"Don't remind me," I interrupt.

"And don't knock it either, Edward. By the time your father passes away and the full title comes to you, this country will have moved on, but hopefully it will still be swinging between the right and the left at regular intervals, or the country will be in serious trouble. It will be hereditary peers like you with no political affiliations who will keep this country from moving too far in one direction, so remember this, and use your privileged position to its best advantage when your turn comes."

"I will remember that, sir, and thanks for the advice."

I make as though I'm getting up to leave but Jenks stops me.

"Wait a bit longer, Edward. I haven't come to the main reason I've decided to confide in you."

I settle back in the chair again and Jenks moves over his desk so he's leaning towards me as though he's going to impart a state secret.

"Edward, I want _you_ to buy me out and take over the firm. I can't think of anyone else who I'd want to pass it to. With your skills and enthusiasm you could do wonders for this place, but it would mean a long-term commitment from you. I appreciate you're at the start of your working life so it would be a lot to take on, but what are your initial thoughts?"

I know my mouth has dropped open before he's finished the first sentence. I'm literally lost for words as it is not something I've ever considered, even further on in the future. I know it's a non-starter though as I don't have any funds behind me, so it isn't even worth considering.

"Mr Jenks, I'm not in any sort of financial position to buy the firm. I know you know my father was furious when I started working for you, but I'm not sure whether you're aware that my father also cut me off financially because I didn't join one of the elite chambers when I'd finished my Articles. Apparently I upset some of his friends by turning down their offers, so he informed me I was on my own from then on. I basically live on my monthly salary and that's only just enough to get by, so I'm sorry; there's no chance of me being able to take over the company, but I'm extraordinarily touched that you considered me first."

Jenks looks shocked when I tell him that dad has cut me off and he frowns when I make out I'm as poor as a church mouse.

"But Edward, I thought you received an inheritance from your grandfather?"

"I did, but I spent it all on buying my house. I've a few thousand left but that's all, and I keep that for emergencies. I didn't inherit a massive amount from my grandpa as most of his wealth was in property which has passed to my father. Also, my sister was given the same inheritance as me, but she's not allowed to touch it until she's twenty-five or gets married first."

I hold my hand up to stop Jenks interrupting.

"Before you say it, I know it's old-fashioned and unfair to Rosie that I got mine immediately when grandpa died, and when I was only twenty-two. Grandpa was born in the nineteenth century, and even though he loved my sister and thought she was bright and clever, which she is, he obviously didn't think she could be trusted with a pot of money until she was more mature or married."

Jenks chuckled and then sighed.

"Well, I've got a few months to find a buyer, Edward, otherwise J Jenks will fold, probably by September. It'll be a shame if that's the case as we're doing good work here. I've already put the word out that I'm considering retiring, so maybe a miracle will happen and someone will come along with the reddies, otherwise I'll have to give everyone notice which will be upsetting for me, and especially for Margaret of course who has been here as long as I have."

I hadn't got further than thinking about my own situation and the daunting prospect of looking for another job, but of course it would have implications for many other people; especially Margaret who was in her mid-fifties. She would have the greatest difficulty finding another position as she was so near retirement. I therefore had to pin my hopes on Jenks being able to find a buyer to keep us all together, even if it was short term.

"You will keep this to yourself, won't you, Edward?"

"Of course," I say, then add, "Your wife's health is the most important factor here, so I presume you'll need to take a fair bit of time off between now and when you retire?"

Jenks nodded his head in confirmation. "I'll take a week off when she comes home from hospital, and then I'll be here as often as is practical. I won't be going into Court anymore, just in case my wife has a relapse during a hearing. I'm going to ask you, John and Simon to divide my cases up between you. You will be financially compensated for any additional work this will entail."

"Thank you," I say as I get up to leave. "Is that all for the moment?"

"Yes, Edward. As I said earlier, we'll have a chat about last week's hearing another day. At the moment I've got too much on my mind to think clearly. Can you close the door on the way out please."

I pick up my now empty mug and wander back to my office, closing Jenks' door behind me. My head is spinning with everything Jenks has told me, however it's crystal clear I'll have start looking for another job soon as I can't afford to be unemployed for more than a couple of months. For about ten seconds I consider mortgaging my house in order to buy-out Jenks, but common sense tells me not to risk my home.

I look at the pile of files on my desk but I cannot focus on work for the moment. It seems as though my whole life has been turned upside down in the space of a few weeks. My job is under threat, I'm distracted because of Bella. Someone has tried to break into my house. I'm seriously considering asking Jasper to move in with me so I have some spare cash at the end of the month. I'm becoming disillusioned about being a Rocker because of the incident in Clacton a week ago, and … I'm hungry. I need to go to Lyons and get something to eat.

I glance out the window and the sun is shining so I don't bother taking my coat. When I step out onto the pavement I can feel the sun's warmth on my face straightaway so I turn towards it and close my eyes for a few seconds and instantly see the red glow behind my eyelids. Summer is on the way and this perks me up considerably. The prospect of long evenings and glorious sunsets where it stays light until about ten o'clock is something I look forward to during England's tortuous winter months and May is only a few weeks away. With these pleasant images in mind, and the knowledge that in less than three hours I'll be meeting up with Bella, I jog towards Lyons with a smile on my face and some renewed hope in my heart.

* * *

 **Bella**

This Monday morning has got to be the _slowest_ Monday morning I've ever had to endure in my _whole life!_

I keep glancing at the clock, willing it to be much closer to twelve-thirty than the last time I looked, but only five minutes has passed rather than the twenty I'd been hoping for. As the minutes tick by I'm getting more and more anxious about meeting Edward, and my stomach is in knots at the thought. I wonder what I'm going to say to him and whether I'll be brave enough to eat my sandwich in his presence. I know it's a stupid thing to worry about, but I don't want to come back and find out I've had a piece of tomato caught between my teeth the whole time. I'd die of embarrassment.

Tea break comes and goes and I notice Mrs Black taking Doreen to one side to give her a talking to, but out of earshot of the rest of the girls. I'm presuming Mrs Black has threatened her with the sack if she has another go at me or anybody else and Doreen's face is like thunder when she returns to her desk. Sue smirks at me but I shake my head as I'm not going to crow about Doreen's discomfiture, even though I'm sorely tempted. Hopefully I'll have plenty of time to do just that after my interview on Wednesday.

Lunchtime finally arrives and I casually grab my bag and head for the cloakroom, trying to make out that today is no different than any other day. I don't want the girls to suspect that I'm not going for a walk as usual, so I say, "see you later," to them and walk unhurriedly towards the outside doors. As I step into the fresh air I stop for a second to button up my coat and get a grip of myself. My heart is rapidly pounding in my chest and I feel as though I have a whole swarm of butterflies playing tag in my stomach. I nervously look across to Edward's building, wishing, hoping, begging, praying that I'll see a large book propped against his window. I look, and then look again to be sure. My prayers have been answered and I know he'll be waiting for me around the corner.

As I take the first step down towards street level, my knees feel wobbly and I actually giggle at the ridiculousness of the situation. By the time I reach the pavement I feel slightly more confident that I'm not walking like Pinocchio, so I pull myself together and stroll with my head held high towards the street where he'll be waiting, (but my tummy is still doing backflips).

Edward is leaning against the wall when I turn the corner and his face contorts into a broad grin when he sees me. I want to burst into tears he's so handsome but I control myself and concentrate on staying upright as my knees have started to buckle again.

The skin around his beautiful grey–green eyes crinkles when he smiles and his slightly hollowed cheeks puff out, giving his face a rounder appearance, then they settle back to that sexy, chiselled look that reminds me of a very young Elvis coupled with the moody appearance of the late James Dean. His hair is neatly groomed this time and bears no resemblance to the Rocker's hair, but I'm sure if I had the opportunity to run my fingers through it, I could get it looking like the Rocker's in a matter of seconds.

"Hi," he says. "Gorgeous day for a walk, isn't it?"

"Absolutely," I reply while trying unsuccessfully to dismiss the image of me running my fingers through his hair. "Come on then," I say enthusiastically. "I've only got about forty minutes."

I set off down the street at a pace and travel a few hundred yards until I come to the entrance to St Bride's Passage, which is a narrow alleyway between two old buildings. Edward stops at the opening and looks up at the sign.

"I've never noticed this place before," he says. "I've walked down this street loads of times, obviously with my eyes shut."

"I'll show you where it leads," I proudly reply and set off briskly with him following me.

"London is full of tiny lanes and courtyards," I tell him while we're walking. "I try and find new ones during my lunch break, but I'm limited to how far I can travel because of time. I'd like to write a book listing them all one day, but I'd need time off to do some research."

Edward is looking at me strangely and I know I've surprised him.

"What's up?" I ask innocently.

"Nothing," he replies shaking his head and then he laughs, probably because he thinks I'm nuts or something.

I lead him through the passage which goes through a fairly boring courtyard before we emerge onto a narrow street. I turn another corner and then another until I reach the beautiful façade of St Bride's Church with its magnificent 'wedding cake' tower, which is the spiritual home of the journalists who work in Fleet Street.

"You're not taking me to church," he declares with a grin.

"No, I'm taking you behind it. Come and take a look what's round here."

We walk into the grounds then along the side of the church to where the yard opens up at the back. Hiding behind a low stone wall is a beautiful secret garden which would be impossible to spot from the roadside, and today it's laid out with wide beds overflowing with hundreds of multi-coloured tulips.

"Wow!" Edward exclaims as his eyes take in the riot of colour which looks even more intense against the greyness of the church and the ancient stone wall surrounding the perimeter of the garden.

"Stunning, isn't it?" I say, feeling smug because I've surprised him again. "I love coming here in April as it's so pretty and peaceful."

I sit on the low wall and take the decision to risk getting my sandwich out. Edward sits next to me as I'm rummaging through my bag and for the first time since I walked past him in the Essex pub, I feel the magnetic pull between me and him and have to calm myself before speaking again.

"Do you want to share my sandwich?" I squeak. "It's cheese and tomato," I add, hoping he hasn't noticed that my voice has been affected by his presence.

"Okay," he replies and pulls out a paper bag from his jacket pocket. "But only if you'll share what I've got in here."

"What is it?" I ask, and he opens the bag so I can look in.

"Oooooh, yummy!" I say sounding very eloquent (not). "Longues de Chat, avec Chocolat" I add, as I actually know the proper French name for these gorgeous biscuit-type cakes that melt in your mouth, hoping this knowledge will restore my credibility as someone who's half-intelligent.

I carefully open the greaseproof paper around my sandwich and offer him the top half. He takes it and we munch on our shared sandwich as we watch the tulip heads bobbing up and down in the light breeze. I'm tempted to ask him if he's the Rocker now, but decide to give him the opportunity to tell me in his own time.

"Have you worked for your company for long," I ask.

"About two years," he replies. "I've only just moved into the office at the front of the building though. I used to share one overlooking the back courtyard with one of the other guys, but it's nice having my own space at last. Do you have your own office, Bella?"

"No," I reply. "I'm in the typing pool with eleven other girls at the moment, but I'm hoping not to be there much longer. I've just been invited to apply for a secretary's job which is a promotion. I'll know by the end of the week whether I've been successful."

"Well done," he responds. "Is it what you want? What I mean is, have you got a career plan?"

I laugh at that comment.

"What's so funny?" he asks. "That's not an unusual question for someone your age."

"It is for someone with my background, Edward. I'm just an East End girl with no qualifications to speak of. Girls like me have 'jobs', not careers. I'm lucky to have this job, but being a secretary is as far as I'll ever get. Don't forget, I'm a girl, and that counts against me as well. Girls are typists, shop assistants, hairdressers, nurses; that sort of thing. Only privately educated girls get further up the proverbial ladder, and that's usually because daddy knows someone who'll start them ten steps up the ladder, while people like me stay on the bottom rungs for life."

Edward to his credit doesn't dismiss what I've just said, which is what normally happens when I get on my soap box.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," he says. "I'm not going to say it's untrue, because you're ninety-nine percent correct at the moment, but times are changing, Bella, and I can foresee opportunities for working people improving before the end of the decade."

"I hope so," I respond. "Anyway, I bet you're privately educated, not that I'll hold it against you."

Edward laughs and then nods his head in agreement.

"You're right, I am. Public school actually - one of the top ones."

"Which school, ooooh, let me guess…. Harrow?"

"No."

"Marlborough?"

"No."

"Winchester?"

"No."

"Charterhouse?"

"No."

"Rugby?"

"No."

"Westminster?"

"Almost, I wanted to go there, but my dad wouldn't let me."

"Jesus, you didn't go to….."

"Yes, Bella, I went to Eton, but that's only because my dad and both grandfathers went there."

"Wow!"

"Yes, Wow! I had to wear that stupid uniform and look like a prat for six years. Anyway, how do you know the names of all the public schools?"

"Oh, I don't know. Just something that sticks in your mind. Did you go to university as well?"

"Yes, I went to Cambridge. I've been very privileged."

"I'd love to go to university and get a degree."

"What would you study?"

I notice he doesn't hesitate when he asks me that question, in other words he's accepted I've thought seriously about going to university and isn't patronising me. He was already high in my estimations; his lack of doubt has boosted him into the stratosphere.

"English or History, I wouldn't mind either," I answer. "I love both subjects."

"Maybe you will one day. I've heard that the Labour leader, Harold Wilson, is thinking of creating a new type of university which might suit you - if he gets in power this autumn that is."

"Really? What do you mean?"

"Well, from what I've heard, you could follow a university course while studying at home and attend all your lectures at local colleges in the evening. I don't know yet how it would work, but the idea is revolutionary and would mean that folk who haven't had a top notch education and can't afford to stop working to study, could easily obtain good qualifications without having to give up their full time jobs."

"How do you know all this?" I ask, as I'm sure I would have heard about this on the news, or my dad would've mentioned it.

"I know people who belong to the Fabian Society," he replied. I'd never heard of it so he explained.

"The Fabians are a sort-of pressure group that influences the Labour party. One of their principal aims is for the working class to be better educated as they believe this will improve social mobility."

"That would be wonderful," I muse, imagining myself in a gown and mortar board. "But until that happens, I'll carry on bashing away on my typewriter and keep hoping."

Edward opens his bag up and offers me a Cat's Tongue, which I take and start nibbling the end furthest away from the chocolate part.

"Do you leave the chocolate until the end?" he asks.

"Absolutely," I reply. "I always leave the best bit to last, so I can taste it in my mouth for longer."

Edward roars with laughter. "You're nuts," he says.

"Yeah yeah," I agree. "That's what everyone says, but I don't care."

"What do you care about, Bella?"

"Oh, I don't know. I just want to be happy. It doesn't matter how much money I've got, or where I live. All I want is to wake up every morning with a smile on my face and still have that smile at the end of that day. Is that too much to ask?"

Edward shakes his head, "No, not at all, in fact the 'pursuit of happiness' is part of the first article in the American Declaration of Independence. It's a worthy aim for anyone and I admire you for having it."

"Thanks," I say, wondering how I managed to say something profound in his presence.

As I brush the crumbs off my coat, I glance at Edward's watch and notice it's already one o'clock.

"I've got to head back," I say. "Curfew at one-fifteen I'm afraid."

"I'll walk back with you," Edward says as he gets up and looks around him. "It's lovely here," he says wistfully. "I'd never have known about this place but for you. Thanks."

"Pleasure," I say, and I'm beaming. "I know quite a few more havens of tranquillity if you're interested?"

"Absolutely," Edward replies, and I can tell he's genuinely enthusiastic.

As we walk back the way we came, I ask him whether he can get out tomorrow. I don't want to push it, so I just say that I'm walking if he'd like to join me.

"I'll leave a book in the window again, Bella. I've got a lot going on at work so some days it might be impossible."

"Okay," I reply trying not to sound disappointed. "I probably won't go out on Wednesday as I've got my interview in the afternoon, so don't bother with the book that day."

Edward nods his head and smiles at me. "If I don't see you tomorrow, good luck with the interview. I hope it's what you want."

"Thanks, Edward. I hope so too."

We reach the corner where we met and I carry on walking but he stops and waits for me to go on ahead, just in case any of the girls are outside on the steps. As I walk away, the electrical charge between us disappears, like someone has flicked a switch and the light has gone out and I feel its loss straightaway. I look behind me and he's standing with his legs apart and his hands tucked in his trouser pockets, and he looks so blumin' handsome it takes all my strength not to turn around and run back and throw myself at him. "God! What would I give to feel his lips on mine?" I ask myself, then I take a deep breath before I cross the road and run up the steps, but I can't resist turning round again and giving him a little wave before I go through the doors.

I'm floating about two inches off the ground on my way to the cloakroom and I know I've got the stupidest, inane grin on my face. I pull my coat off and hang it on the peg then check in the mirror to see whether there's any tomato between my teeth, which thankfully there isn't. My hair is a bit windswept so I pull my brush out of my bag and I'm quickly running through the ends to get it into some sort of order when Doreen comes into the cloakroom. She grabs hold of my arms and pushes me so hard against the wall that my breath is knocked out of me. Her face is so close to mine our noses are practically touching.

"You fucking bitch," she hisses. "I'll get my own back on you one day, don't you forget it. Your life will be a fucking misery when I'm done with you."

With that she spits in my face, pushes me sideways then turns on her heel and walks towards the typing pool. Unfortunately there are no witnesses around so it would be her word against mine if I told Mrs Black what she'd done. I have to accept she's got away with threatening me this time but to be honest, I don't care, as I'm certain her days at the Express are numbered.

I clean myself up in one of the basins, pull myself together, then walk into the typing pool again with my head held high, because firstly, I'm a better person than Doreen Delaney as she's just a frustrated and jealous bully, and secondly, if I do well at the interview, I'll be able to rub her nose in my success, good and proper.

Roll on Wednesday, that's all I can say.

* * *

 **Edward**

I watch her as she skips lightly across the road and up the steps, then she turns and waves before disappearing into the darkness of the Express foyer. I take my hands out of my pockets and run them over my face and hair then start walking slowly back to the office, which is only about a hundred yards away.

I feel the loss of her as soon as she leaves; almost like the sun has disappeared behind a cloud causing the air temperature to drop like a stone. I recall Jasper's description of when he met Alice, _like he'd been struck by lightning_ , and I know first-hand what that feels like now. Bella has affected me like no other girl has before and I start to wonder how this is going to develop.

On top of the physical attraction, I'm absolutely stunned by what I've learned about this girl in the last forty minutes or so. Firstly, she has a mind of her own, and for a girl with a limited education she is bright, intelligent, articulate and knowledgeable, and she is anxious to improve herself. She has ambitions to go to university and also to write a book, and I wonder what else is going on in her brain. Whatever it is, I'm more than anxious to find out. She also aspires to be happy, and in her mind this is more important than money or status.

When I think about the girls I met at Cambridge, who were all from either 'middle-class' or 'upper-class' families like mine, they were bright, ambitious and clever, but the vast majority of them had the attitude they were 'entitled' to be there because their parents had paid for their education. Some of them had worked darned hard to get to Cambridge, I accept that, but the path that had been laid out for them to get to university was a lot less hazardous than if you came from a poor, working class background.

Bella wanted an education just as much as these girls, but where she lived and who her parents were had determined her life-chances. She had been conditioned to accept she would never be able to climb the social or economic ladder, and that made me angry. I wondered how many more Bella's were out there doing 'jobs' instead of embarking on careers because they didn't go to the right school, or didn't have a relative who could open the right door for them.

As my own doorway comes into view I resign myself to an afternoon of tedious paperwork, but at least I can re-live the last forty-five minutes if I get totally bored, which I'm bound to do. I only have to travel a few more steps when I see Jane come flying out the door and onto the pavement and she's looking wildly from left to right. As she claps eyes on me, she lets out a relieved sigh.

"Mr Cullen, Mr Cullen, there's an urgent phone call for you. Come quickly," she yells and dives back into the building.

I sprint towards the door wondering what on earth has happened and find Margaret holding the phone out to me.

"It's your sister, Edward," she says and I can tell she's upset. I also note that she's used my first name for once and for that reason I go cold as I know it's going to be bad news.

"Rosie," I say and hold my breath.

"Edward, it's dad. He's had a massive heart attack. An ambulance is taking him from the House of Lords to St Thomas' Hospital as we speak. Mum's already on her way from Haslemere and I'm setting off now from Fulham. I should be at the hospital in about twenty minutes. I'll meet you in A&E, but it doesn't look good."

"Oh Jesus," I reply and my legs buckle underneath me. "I'll get a cab; I'll be there as soon as possible."

I hand the phone back to Margaret and my face crumples along with my whole world.

"Get your things and go, Edward," she says. "I'll tell Mr Jenks what's happened. Jane, go out into the road and hail the first cab you see and hold it until Edward's ready."

I run upstairs and grab my things and go to leave, but I turn back and take the book out of the window just in case I'm not at work tomorrow. I run downstairs and out the door, straight into the black cab that's waiting for me.

"St Thomas' A&E," I shout to the cabbie as I'm climbing in. "My father's had a heart attack so drive as fast as possible please."

"Right mate," he says. "I'll do my very best."

As I slide myself into the seat, I put my hands over my face and quietly sob. My first thought is that my father could either be dead or dying by now with no-one from the family with him, which would be a tragedy. But then I think of the implications of his passing for me, because if he dies, my life would irrevocably change, as I would instantly become the head of the Cullen family and a reluctant Peer of the Realm. So instead of being formally known as _The Honourable Edward Anthony Masen-Cullen_ , I would become Lord Cullen of Moray, with all bullshit that goes with that title and responsibility. I certainly would have to reconsider my secret life as a Rocker.

As the taxi hurtles towards St Thomas' Hospital, I pray hard for my father to survive for all the right reasons, but also to get me off the hook. I know I'm being selfish, but I am _so_ not ready for this.

* * *

 **Poor Edward, having that responsibility thrust on him at such a young age. Let's hope Carlisle survives so he can carry on just being Edward Cullen for a while longer.**

 **Bella is on Cloud Nine - who can blame her. She must be thinking that Edward is seeking more than friendship by now, or is she still in denial? Lots of drama in the next chapter.**

FYI

The difference between **private** and **public schools** is quite straight-forward. The UK has a free education system where every child is entitled to be educated in a state-run school, but you can choose to pay for your child to go to an independent school. There are lots of private/independent schools all over the country, where the fees are expensive but manageable for well-off middle class families to send their offspring to. Most of these are day schools, but quite a few are boarding schools that take day pupils as well. Public Schools are exclusive establishments where students are generally hand-picked based on who your parents are or how wealthy your parents are, (William and Harry didn't have much problem being accepted into Eton for instance). Fees at the moment are in the £35k a year region, plus all the other bits on top, like uniform, equipment and other expenses. Most of the public schools are boarding schools as well. Unless you're either lazy or an idiot, if you go to one of those schools you're made for life because of the contacts you make while you're there.

 **St Bride's Church** is the spiritual home of the journalists who work in Fleet Street. The spire of the church looks like a tiered wedding cake and was designed by Sir Christopher Wren, the architect who designed St Paul's Cathedral, which is not far away. The original church was gutted in the Blitz firestorm, but by the time Bella took Edward around the back to see the tulips, it had already been restored; the restoration being paid for by the newspaper owners and journalists of Fleet Street.

 **St Thomas' Hospital** is on the opposite side of the river from the Houses of Parliament - so Carlisle's ambulance would be able to get to him quickly as it's a five minute dash across Westminster Bridge to the Lords. Since the 1960's, the old St Thomas' has been rebuilt and is now a modern building. Back then it was housed in old Victorian buildings. Florence Nightingale set up the first school of nursing there in 1860, which is still going strong today.

The **University** Edward was talking about actually came into being five years later. Harold Wilson, who eventually became the Labour prime minister, brought about the creation of **The Open University** in 1969, which allows adults who are in full or part time work or stay-at-home mums for instance, to pursue a University degree course in their spare time. The course content is just as rigorous as a normal degree course. Students have to attend lectures at local colleges in the evening and go to summer-school, and it was/is extraordinarily successful. The Open University is now one of the world's largest universities as it also caters for students from other countries. Since 1971 when the first students enrolled, more than 1.5 million people have studied under the OU. Brilliant stuff.

Joan x


	18. Chapter 18

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 17**

 **Edward**

As I clamber from the taxi, I gratefully thank my amazing cabbie as he'd run several red lights to get me to the Accident and Emergency department in record time. I throw a ten-shilling note at him and shout he can keep the change as I sprint the last few yards towards the entrance, crash through the glass double-doors then hurry past lines of red plastic chairs inhabited by the sick and injured. I aim for the reception desk where fortunately there's no queue of people preventing me from getting the information I so desperately need and blurt out my question to the lady clerk who has already spotted me hurtling towards her.

"My father's just been brought in from the Lords," I pant as I support myself on the counter. "He's had a heart attack. I'm his son, Edward Cullen."

I'm shaking with anxiety, but I know I have to be as polite as possible to this lady, despite being on the verge of a nervous breakdown because I'm preparing myself for bad news.

"Ah yes, Lord Cullen was brought in about twenty minutes ago," she responds unhurriedly as though it's not screamingly obvious by my trembling voice that my world is falling apart. "Can you go to the relatives' waiting room which is down the corridor to your left. I'll ask a doctor to come along and speak to you as soon as possible."

"Is he still alive for Christ's sake?" I practically yell at her. She's obviously used to dealing with distraught relatives and I'm well aware I'm being totally unreasonable as it would be unprofessional of her to impart such sensitive information on my father's condition, even if she knew.

"I don't know," she answers calmly and politely. "Go along to the waiting room, Mr. Cullen," she repeats firmly. "I'll do my best to get someone to answer that question for you as soon as possible."

I easily find the relative's waiting room, which is fortunately empty as I really want to yell profanities at the top of my voice then punch the wall I'm so frustrated, but there's nothing I can do. I just have to wait patiently for someone to find the time to tell me that my father has died, and consequently I've been instantly elevated to the Peerage, which I selfishly don't want or need right now. I've been waiting about five minutes, pacing the floor like a caged animal, when a slightly-built but very tall Asian-looking woman in a white uniform comes in and asks whether I'm Lord Cullen's son.

"Yes, I am," I respond. "Is my father still alive?" I ask and I can hear my voice breaking.

"Yes he is, but he's critical. He's going to need major surgery as soon as we can organise it. We have a call out for the top cardiac team in London to do the operation and when Lady Cullen gets here, I'll explain the procedure to you both and lay out the risks involved. Is that enough information for the moment."

"Yes, yes," I say, "but would it be in order for us to speak to his doctor before he has his surgery."

"I'm his doctor for the moment, Mr Cullen. I treated your father with blood-thinning drugs when he came in to A&E and kept his heart going until he was connected to the machines that are keeping him alive."

"Oh my God, I'm sorry, I presumed…"

"You presumed I'm a nurse, because I'm not a man in a white coat with a stethoscope around my neck; is that it?"

"Yes, oh god, yes, I'm so sorry. I sincerely apologise for the error. It was your uniform that threw me. Thank you for saving my father's life. I know my family will be eternally grateful to you and your team."

"That's alright, Mr Cullen, it's a common mistake to make and quite understandable. There aren't many female Emergency Consultants around, so no apology required. But please understand; your father is in great danger and could die at any moment. He's going to need extensive open heart surgery to survive and then months of recuperation _and_ a total change of lifestyle, which you and your family will have to help him with or what we're going to do for him today will be a total waste of time."

"Understood, doctor," I reply and I realise I'm nodding my head furiously, as though doing that will convince her I'm in earnest. "My mother should be here within the hour, and I know she'll want to see him before he goes in for surgery. Will she be able to do that?"

"I'll make sure the staff are aware of this, but if he takes a turn for the worse he'll have to go straight up to theatre, even if the cardiac team haven't all arrived. Right, I'd better get back to the patient. I suggest you get yourself a cup of tea and make yourself comfortable; you've got a long day and night ahead of you."

I drop into an uncomfortable plastic chair when she leaves and stare at the ceiling while trying to regain my composure. At least he's still alive and has a chance of recovery, but reading between the lines of what the doctor was saying, I would guess it was only a slim chance and she was preparing me for the worst. I want to see him, but I'm sure that's out of the question at the moment and I'd probably get in the way, so I sit and think about what I need to say to him if I get the opportunity.

As I'm contemplating this, the door bursts open and Rosie comes skidding in. I jump up and she falls straight into my arms and immediately starts sobbing.

"He's still alive," I say as I hug her tightly. "He's having surgery very soon so he's got a chance, even though I'm sure it's a slim one."

Rosie is in bits but eventually she calms down and I grab some tissues from a box that's obviously been left for situations such as this. That thought depresses me as I wonder how much bad news has been imparted in this room over the years. I shudder at the thought, but turn my attention back to Rosie who is now speaking coherently.

"So what do you know," she asks between sobs.

"Only that he's going to have surgery but I don't know the exact reason why. Obviously something catastrophic has happened to his heart and this is his only option. I've asked them to wait for mum to arrive but the doctor said she might have to take him up to theatre sooner. Oh, and we should get a cup of tea as we'll be here for hours."

Rosie's face breaks into a smile through the tears. "That's the British answer for everything; a cuppa solves all known problems in the universe."

Neither of us can face drinking tea though, so we sit in the waiting room and wait, and wait, until we hear a commotion outside and we know without any doubt that Lady Cullen has steamed into the hospital like the Queen Mary and is not taking any bullshit from anyone. I open the waiting room door and hear her already in full upper-class rant.

"I demand to see my husband," she declares in the bellowing voice she reserves for errant tradesmen or shop assistants who don't serve her speedily enough. "Take me to him _immediately,"_ she adds, _"and_ I want to see whoever is in charge of his care, NOW!"

"Mum," I say to her as gently as possible when I reach the reception desk. "Come with me and Rosie and I'll tell you what we know. I've already spoken to dad's doctor and I've told her you want to see him before he goes to theatre, so calm down."

Before she has time to argue, Rosie puts her arm around her shoulders and propels her along the corridor to the waiting room and pushes her inside, whilst I apologise profusely to the reception staff who are all as white as a sheet. Mum does seem to have that effect on people unfortunately.

As I walk back to the waiting room, the doctor I spoke to earlier catches up with me and tells me we can see dad now but only for a couple of minutes. I call Rosie and mum and we follow the doctor to a curtained-off area in the A&E department where dad is wired up to numerous machines and has an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth, but he's awake which I wasn't expecting.

As soon as mum sees him she bursts into tears and the hard shell that's been holding her together finally cracks.

"Carlisle," she whispers through her sobs, then she rushes over to him and takes his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. "You've given us such a fright," she cries.

Dad manages a smile and an eye-roll and his lips start to move. Mum bends down to listen to what he's saying, and then she replies, "I love you too, Carlisle, just as much as the day I married you."

Rosie goes over next and kisses him on his forehead then bends down so she can listen to what he's saying to her. She grins at him and says, "Don't worry dad, I will, and you'll be there too. I'm not having anyone else walking me down the aisle but you."

It's my turn now and I know this could be my last chance to say what I need to say before it's too late, so I bend over and say softly, "I love you dad, and I'm sorry I let you down."

He grabs hold of my hand and tugs me towards him with more strength than I could ever imagine he'd still have in his condition, so I bend over to listen to his words.

"No, you have not," he whispers but in forceful tone. "I'm proud of you, son, and I couldn't want for a better man to follow me than you. Promise me you'll look after your mother and sister and I'll die a happy man."

"I promise, dad, but you're not going to die."

"Bollocks!" he replies as he lets go of my hand, and I wonder whether that will be the last word he'll ever say to me.

As I straighten up so that mum can take his hand again, the area around the bed fills with doctors and nurses and we're ushered away while they prepare him for surgery. As we're huddling together outside the curtained area until they're ready, the A&E Consultant explains that the surgeons are going to perform open-heart surgery on him, which as a procedure is still in its infancy but is his only chance of survival. When he's ready for theatre, we follow his bed as it's moved along the corridor then pushed inside an elevator. As the doors close, dad raises his hand and waves, and at this point mum collapses.

* * *

 **Bella**

I don't know how I manage to get any work done this afternoon. Luckily I can switch my mind into some sort of automatic-mode and can listen to tapes and type without actually concentrating on what is being said, so the hours between lunch and home time are a blur.

I go over and over my conversation with Edward and I'm surprised how much information about the real me I gave him as I'm usually a private person when I talk to strangers. I still can't believe that for the first time ever I wasn't belittled for having aspirations to go to university or write a book as that's the usual reaction. Even my usually supportive family has told me to get my head out of the clouds if I ever mention this to them. What Edward said about being able to study for a degree at home and attend lectures locally has really excited me. It's not going to happen overnight I know, but at least it's given me something to hope for in the future.

I didn't learn much about him, other than he went to Eton and Cambridge, so he is definitely in the most socially elite strata of society, but there was nothing 'posh' about him which was surprising. His voice was cultured but not affected like some of the upper class accents I hear in the City. His clothes and shoes were high street not Saville Row and he didn't at any time make me feel 'inferior', which I usually do when I come into contact with people who are from the higher echelons of society, which isn't very often admittedly.

I still don't know his other name so there's no way of finding out about his family other than asking him, and that would be nosey. I sort of wonder who his parents are as they must be stinking rich to send him to Eton. Whatever, I accept I'll never meet them as I'm not the sort of girl he'd take home to meet mummy and daddy, so there's no point in me being curious.

I come to the conclusion that Edward is definitely an enigma. He's upper class but doesn't talk, act or dress like it. He's highly educated, but works in a small law firm and not one of the elite chambers in the square mile. He's got friends who are left-wing and obviously he has a social conscience, where normally people with his background would be right-wing, Conservative, and with a sense of entitlement. And of course he could be the Rocker, which is the strangest enigma of all and the one I find most fascinating.

When it's the end of the day, I make sure I'm with Sue when I collect my coat from the cloakroom as I'm not leaving myself open to be attacked by Doreen again. Her face looks as though she's been chewing a wasp all afternoon and I'm still at a loss to know why she has suddenly turned on me as I've worked with her for nearly two years without a problem. When Sue and I walk out into the fresh air, I look up at Edward's window but he's not there and the book has disappeared from view. I'm disappointed not to see him again as I was secretly hoping he would be looking out for me, so I say goodbye to the girls and run across the road to get the bus.

It's a quiet evening at home. Dad is at a union meeting and Mike doesn't appear until about eleven when he goes straight up to his room without saying anything to anyone. I spend a couple of hours on my article and I'm pleased with it so far, but it will need a bit more titivating before I do the final draft. When I turn the light off, all I can think about is Edward and the way he smiled at me when I met him, and the way I felt magnetically drawn towards him when we sat together on the wall. I know I'm falling for him big time and it will end in tears for me, but until that time I'm going to enjoy being in his company and make the most of every moment we spend together.

* * *

 **Tuesday, 7th April 1964**

Tuesday comes and goes without any drama as Doreen doesn't turn up for work at all, so maybe she's decided to look for another job before she's sacked. I go out for lunch but the book isn't there so I presume Edward is busy. In the evening I finish off the article and give it to Mike a day early, then I go to bed at ten as I want to get a good night's sleep so I'm prepared for my interview. I've already laid out the clothes I'm going to wear, which is a smart black skirt with a cream and black blouse and black court shoes. I got the clothes from Alice when she cleared out her wardrobe on Saturday and this outfit was ideal. She said the shoes pinched her and she was going to give away the clothes anyway. As always I was grateful to accept them. She still doesn't know I've got an interview though.

As I close my eyes and try to get to sleep, I hope that by this time tomorrow my life will have changed for the better, and in every way imaginable.

* * *

 **Edward**

Day turns into night, which turns into day and we're still at the hospital. Probably because of who we are, (which is totally unfair really), we're allowed to use a small sitting room with comfier chairs and a kitchenette which has made the waiting time more bearable.

Mum is okay now after collapsing. She'd held it together until dad waved and then reality kicked in and it was all too much for her. Luckily there was a nurse nearby who took over and sorted mum out with a cold compress for her forehead and the obligatory cup of tea and a biscuit. Just before midnight, we heard from the medical staff that dad had survived the operation but he was still in the recovery area being monitored closely. If what they had done hadn't worked, he would have to go back into surgery immediately.

At about two in the morning, one of the surgeons came down to see us and told us in layman's terms that one of dad's main arteries had become blocked and his heart had started to shut down. During the operation they had stopped his heart and a machine had taken over while the surgeons did the repairs, then his heart had been re-started and was now beating on its own again. They were keeping him in the recovery area for a few more hours until they were satisfied it was safe to move him to Intensive Care and a nurse would let us know when we could see him.

I asked him what dad's chances were and he said fifty-fifty. That was a vast improvement from the previous estimate of his chances when he was admitted, but still not enough for us to relax. Luckily dad's general health was very good, in that he was physically fit and not overweight, and he was the right side of sixty, but he smoked and drank heavily so that would have to stop if he survived this.

After the surgeon left we all tried to get some sleep. Mum took the sofa and Rosie and I had an armchair each, but it was impossible for me to switch off as the implications for the family if dad didn't survive were scrambling my brain. I wasn't worried about whether dad had disinherited me financially, because I knew without question that mum and Rosie would ensure I was well looked after; it was the burden of carrying the title that was bothering me. I'd already decided I didn't want it, but deep down I didn't want anyone else to have it either. Mum or Rosie would never forgive me if I passed it to my Nazi cousin so I was totally stuffed in that respect.

I tried to distract myself by thinking about Bella and our lunchtime meeting which was still fresh in my mind, even after all the drama that happened after. She was the one light in my complicated life at the moment and I wished I could talk to her about how I was feeling right now, as I know she would listen without judging me. Her smile when she spotted me when she got off the bus yesterday morning was so genuine and her easy manner with me when we were sitting on the wall sharing our food was endearing. I'd never been so relaxed with a girl in my life before and I wanted more, but I couldn't foresee when I'd be back at my desk in Fleet Street so I was relieved I'd warned her that I had a busy week ahead of me. The last thing I wanted was for her to think I didn't want to see her again.

I've probably only had about an hour of sleep between the time when the surgeon came in to tell us how the operation went and when we could hear the hospital coming to life again at about seven in the morning. Just after eleven o'clock, a nurse in a Nightingale uniform knocks on the door and informs us that dad has been transferred from Recovery to Intensive Care and we can see him.

In silence we follow her along the corridor and up two stories in a lift, then directly into a small ward containing six beds and a massive amount of equipment. I can see dad by the window wired up to several different machines and an oxygen tent is covering his whole body, the top half of which is unclothed. As we approach him, I grab hold of mum as I know she's going to be shocked when she sees the extent of the bruising on his torso, which is probably due to the chest compressions when he was being kept alive in the ambulance, plus the sight and size of the wound where surgeons had opened his chest. I feel her wobble, but she remains upright and I guide her over to a chair so she can sit next to him.

Dad is unconscious but he's alive, which is more than I'd hoped for twenty-two hours ago. I offer a prayer to whoever's listening; thanking them for rescuing my father from the jaws of death and for saving me from having to take on the responsibilities of a Peer of the Realm at such a young age. Dad isn't out of the woods yet, but I have a gut feeling he's going to pull through this.

We sit with him for about half an hour and then the staff ask us to leave as the doctors do their rounds at midday. I've already started to think about the practicalities of mum staying somewhere nearby and as we leave Intensive Care I offer her my spare bedroom.

"Don't be ridiculous, Edward," she replies and the old Lady Cullen is re-surfacing again. "Rosalie and I are checking in to The Savoy and we'll stay there as long as is necessary. It's just across the river from the hospital so we can get here in ten minutes by taxi."

I'm secretly relieved that she doesn't want to stay with me and also that Rosie is going to stay with her for the duration, which by the look of things is news to Rosie who just shrugs her shoulders and eye-rolls, but both of us can see the sense in this arrangement as Rosie doesn't have a full-time job at the moment. We go back to our waiting room and not long after, dad's surgeon comes in and advises us to leave our contact details and go home as dad will be unconscious for some time yet.

As mum and Rosie go out into the corridor, the surgeon pulls me to one side and says in a low voice, "The next forty-eight hours are critical, Mr Cullen. It could go either way as we can't tell at this stage whether the repair to his heart will hold. Stay by the telephone if you can."

I nod my head and thank him for being so candid, even though this isn't the news I wanted to hear. I escort mum and Rosie to the main entrance and manage to get them into a taxi fairly quickly. After waving them away, I decide to walk to Westminster Bridge and get some air before going home. I don't normally suffer with stress, but physically I feel totally wound up and tense as my neck is stiff and my back is aching and it's not through trying to sleep in an armchair. Rosie confirmed I nodded off for a while in the waiting room, but my head still feels like it's full of sawdust and it's not only through lack of sleep.

It's a five-minute stroll to get onto the bridge as St. Thomas' overlooks the Houses of Parliament from the opposite side of the river. The bridge is busy with office workers out on their lunch breaks, plus there are hundreds of tourists milling around, taking pictures of Big Ben and the heart of our democracy from this perfect vantage point. I stop half way across and look downstream towards the magnificent dome of St Paul's that dominates the skyline. Behind the cathedral is the City of London, also known as the 'square mile', which is the home of all the major banks, the Law Courts, Insurers like Lloyds and all of the country's national newspapers, and Bella of course.

As I watch the steam barges travelling up and down the filthy river which fortunately doesn't smell too badly today, I hear the sound of a powerful motorbike roaring across the bridge and I automatically turn to look. The bike is travelling too fast for me to tell which make or model it is, but watching it until it disappears in the distance stirs a desire in me. I know then what I need to do to relieve the stress. I have to get away on my bike somewhere, anywhere, just to blow the sawdust from my brain. Too much has happened to me over the last few days for me to think clearly and I need to do something to bring myself back down to earth or I'll have a breakdown or something.

I sprint towards Westminster Underground Station which is on the opposite side of the bridge by Big Ben and catch the Circle Line train to High Street Ken. I run the rest of the way to my house and shove the key in the lock and open the door. I'm greeted by a strange beeping sound and realise instantly that Jasper has managed to get an alarm fitted while I was away and I guess I've only got about thirty seconds to work out how to stop the alarms going off. I dash into the kitchen where there's a note for me on the breakfast bar with the four digit code. I find the panel by the front door and tap the code in and the beeping stops with about three seconds to spare.

"Jesus," I say out loud, and collapse on one of the stools in the kitchen to get my breath back.

Before getting changed I make myself a quick sandwich and call the office to let them know I probably won't be in tomorrow. Margaret takes the message as Jenks is at the hospital with his wife, so she wishes me well and asks me to keep her informed about my dad which I promise to do.

I have a thirty-second shower, fling a thick t-shirt and jeans on then go down to the stable where I'm pleased to discover Jasper has arranged for it to be separately alarmed. I decide to take Sadie out, as she will force me to concentrate on her rather than all the other crap that's going on in my head. I know I can't go far just in case dad takes a turn for the worse, so Hanger Lane and back will be sufficient to bring me back down to earth.

I wheel Sadie out onto the cobbles and set the alarm to keep Tara safe then roll her to the end of the road where I start her up. We travel sedately down to the High Street where I wait for a gap in the traffic and then we're away, and this time I don't hold back even though the roads are packed. I swerve around the nose to tail traffic until I'm racing down the centre line as though I'm speeding along a deserted country lane. I've never driven so fast through London before and it's exhilarating because I know I'm risking my life going at this pace, but it's definitely what I need right at this moment because I can feel the heavy weight that's been sitting on my shoulders falling away already.

It's a warm afternoon and the cars ahead of me have their windows open to let the air in, so luckily they can hear Sadie coming. The traffic parts like the Red Sea when the drivers hear the sound of Sadie's engine bearing down on them and I'm relishing the feeling of wild superiority she gives me. Unusually the lights are with me all the way to the A40 so Sadie and I get to the dual carriageway in record time and then I really let her fly.

I push her harder than I've ever pushed her before on this stretch of road and within half a mile she's edging a hundred and ten, then fifteen, then twenty. This is the fastest I've ever travelled in any built-up area and I know it's highly dangerous but I don't care. Life dealt me a shitty hand yesterday and I'm sticking two fingers up at fate. If the Grim Reaper takes me now, who gives a fuck? I hold Sadie at this reckless speed for another half mile, then drop her to a steady eighty and relax. Instantly I feel euphoric when the rush of adrenalin hits my brain and I presume this sensation is equivalent to a hit of heroin. Speed is my one and only addiction and I'm a hopeless addict.

As I race towards the traffic lights at Acton where I anticipate I'll probably have to bring Sadie to a halt for the first time since leaving home, in a blinding flash, almost as though my subconscious is screaming the fucking obvious at me, I suddenly realise what an irresponsible, selfish, thoughtless bastard I've been for risking my life in the most idiotic way by embarking on this death-wish crusade. I've been so wrapped up in _myself_ and how the trauma surrounding my father's illness has affected _me,_ that I've completely ignored the possible consequences of my reckless behaviour. If I'd died, or had a terrible accident on this road, my mother and sister would have had to deal with that disaster, on top of my father being at death's door, and that horrifying revelation is like an ice-cold slap to the face.

I realise I'm not concentrating on the traffic while my imagination runs riot and I have a couple of near misses before I focus on my surroundings. The consequences of my mother and sister having to bury me as well makes me feel physically sick, plus the shock to my father if I died would probably finish him off too. I remember the promise I made to him that I would look after mum and Rosie if he died, yet the instant I leave the hospital I decide to put my own life in danger.

It dawns on me then, as clear as if my father was shouting expletives in my ear and calling me every derogatory epithet imaginable, that if I continued biking, I would be risking my life every time I went out on the road, and that painful revelation was like another cold slap to the face.

As I approach the traffic lights at Acton, a car swerves in front of me without warning and I miss it by inches. Normally that wouldn't bother me, but for the first time ever on a bike I feel vulnerable, as I'm so exposed compared to the heavy four-wheeled vehicles that surround me. I also accept that I'm exhausted as I've only had about an hour's sleep since waking up on Monday morning over thirty hours ago, which would obviously slow my reactions, and that thought makes me feel even more at risk. My whole body is shaking by now so I drop Sadie's speed to forty, which is the actual speed limit on this stretch of road, and I look for somewhere to pull over before I have an accident.

I'm obliged to stop at the first set of lights so I safely turn right across the traffic when I can, and pull in to a service road in front of a line of local shops. Once there I turn off Sadie's engine and sit astride her cooling engine while staring at the road back to London and then I start to shudder uncontrollably. I'm contemplating what has just happened and the return journey which I'm not looking forward to, and it's almost as though I've lost my nerve. I can feel my heart racing in my chest, and for a few seconds I suspect I'm having a heart attack as well. Sweat is pouring off me, but after a few minutes of concentrating on breathing steadily I can feel myself calming, and I continue taking long steady breaths to ensure plenty of oxygen is getting into my lungs, even though I'm sitting next to a busy dual carriageway and the noxious fumes I'm inhaling can't be doing me any good.

It's as though I've had an epiphany as I come to terms with what has happened. If my father dies in the next few days, weeks, or months, my responsibility to my family will have to take precedence over everything else, which means that my secret life as a Rocker and my love affair with motorbikes and speed will have to come to an abrupt end. As I contemplate parting with my beloved girls, I run my hands affectionately over Sadie's warm body, like a lover who knows when an affair is over. As her engine cools under my touch, I accept that if my father dies, my passion for all things bike-related will have to perish at the same time.

I cannot be angry with my father for putting me in this position. His lifestyle choices are the norm for a man in his chosen profession and social class, and since he was appointed Master of the Rolls four years ago, he's been obliged to spend more time in London; sleeping over at his Club when he's presiding at the Appeal Court, rather than being at home with mum where she could keep an eye on his consumption of cigarettes, alcohol and rich food. I wonder then whether she'll force him to resign from the judiciary if he survives this. He would still be able to sit in the House of Lords on the cross benches, but knowing my dad, that wouldn't be enough for him. However I can't think ahead like this at the moment as I have more pressing things on my mind.

My sweat-soaked t-shirt is sticking to my body but the moisture has now chilled and I feel cold and uncomfortable, even though the air temperature is warm. I came out just wearing jeans and a t-shirt, which is another indication of my irresponsible behaviour, so that jerks me back to the real world. I start to shiver, so run my hands up and down my arms to warm them then kick-start Sadie back to life. I need to get home before the rush hour starts as the roads will be full of aggravated motorists, tired from a long day at work and therefore infinitely more dangerous. I twist the throttle and move off, but my desire for speed has dissipated and I allow Sadie to sedately make her way back to London and the burden of responsibility that may be waiting for me there.

* * *

I reach home after a sombre but thankfully uneventful return journey and park Sadie next to Tara, then reset the alarm and lock the doors. When I get in the house I can tell that Jasper's been home as there's even more food in the fridge, including a casserole I can heat up. I shove it in the oven with a couple of large potatoes that can bake in their skins while its heating, then go upstairs to get changed and have a lie down. I'm exhausted due to stress and lack of sleep and drop off very quickly.

About an hour or so later I'm woken by the front door being opened and closed, and Jasper shouting 'Hello' up the stairs.

"Hi," I yell back, and I'm pleased he's turned up because I didn't relish being on my own this evening. I was considering inviting Alec over, but now Jasper's here I'll have some company and that cheers me up no-end.

Jasper dumps his stuff in the living room and throws himself in the armchair.

"Alright if I stay the night?" he asks when I saunter into the room. "Mum's in a state about your dad and Harry is drinking himself into oblivion as usual. I thought I'd get out the way."

I make a snap decision about Jasper and blurt out the invitation I'd been toying over on the way home.

"You can stay permanently if you want. I've got a spare room, so if you don't mind chipping in some rent and sharing the bills you can move in straightaway."

"Really?" he replies sounding surprised. "Are you sure? I can tell you like your space and this gaff is quite small."

"Yes, really," I reply. "I could do with the spare cash and also you're a bloody good cook. Plus, I want to hear more of your travelling stories, especially ones like the hot girl and the Harley which I still haven't forgiven you for."

Jasper laughs at that comment. "I've got plenty more stories like that, but Harley-girl probably can't be topped where you're concerned. Anyway, thanks for the offer; I'll move in over the next few days, and don't panic, I don't have much stuff."

I'm pleased that he won't fill the house full of crap, but I'll have to look for somewhere else to store my leathers as he'll need that wardrobe. Then I remember that I'm possibly going to have to give up the bikes so may not need my biking gear anymore. I guess Jasper's scooter will be moving in as well, but at least there's plenty of room in the stable for that piece of shit so Tara and Sadie won't be disturbed, until I sell them of course.

Jasper goes down to the kitchen to finish off dinner while I telephone the hospital to find out how dad is doing. I'm put through to Intensive Care and the nurse tells me he's still unconscious which is to be expected and there's nothing else significant to report. I thank them for their efforts and say I'll call back in the morning.

I can hear Jasper clattering about with plates so I presume dinner is nearly ready. I find a decent bottle of red wine and take it down to the kitchen with me.

"How is he?" Jasper asks.

"Alive but still out of it," I reply. "The doctor said the next two days are critical, so anything could happen."

"Shit!" Jasper replies. "I can't imagine what you're going through."

"Yeah, well. The surgeon I spoke to yesterday told me his heart possibly stopped in the ambulance and definitely did in A&E and of course during the operation, so technically I was Lord Cullen for however long it took to get it started."

"Bloody Hell," Jasper exclaims. "Would you take the title?"

"I'd have to, or it would pass to our wanker second-cousin, Quentin Cullen, who's so right wing he makes Mussolini look like Fidel Castro in comparison. Can you imagine Quentin the Fuhrer in the House of Lords? He'd start a fucking war given half the chance."

"Would you take your seat?"

"Not straight away. I'd wait a few years at least and I wouldn't refer to myself as Lord Cullen ever. I've never used 'The Honourable', apart from when I was signed up for Eton. At work I'm Mr Edward Cullen and that's it."

"You've thought about this a lot, haven't you, Edward."

"I suppose I have. I can't help who my parents are and I'm grateful for my education, but my position as the son of a Viscount is a weight around my neck, even more so now. Dad's life-expectancy has probably been severely reduced even if he survives this current situation, so I'm having to re-think my future. I was already doing that anyway because Jenks told me today that he's retiring soon and he's trying to find a buyer for the firm. If he can't, then I'll be out of a job in September."

"That's tough. Any idea whether anyone's interested?"

"No, but he offered it to me first. Said he couldn't think of anyone better to take it on. I was really touched, but unfortunately I don't have the wherewithal to buy him out."

"Shame, because I know how important it is to you. Ah well, something will turn up, I'm sure."

"Hopefully you're right. Anyway, is dinner ready; I'm starving."

Jasper gets up and checks the potatoes and the casserole then gets the plates out of the warmer.

"Are you going to work tomorrow?" he asks as he's dishing up.

"I'll call the hospital in the morning. If dad's stable then I might go in for the afternoon just for a few hours. Jenks' wife is unwell, so me and the others have had to take on some of his cases so I don't want to get too far behind. I'll decide tomorrow."

Jasper passes me my plate and I take a mouthful of his Coq au Vin which is heavenly.

"This is bloody amazing," I say, as I shovel it in my mouth.

"Glad you like it," Jasper replies with a grin. "By the way, _my_ house rule is whoever cooks doesn't wash up. Enjoy!"

I did enjoy the meal and was happy to clear up afterwards and any future night if Jasper continues to make awesome meals like this one. But as I'm putting the plates away, I'm thinking about Bella and how nice it would be if we were doing the washing up together. I was already missing her, so if dad was still in the land of the living tomorrow morning, I'd make damned sure there would be a book propped against my office window for her to see.

And then I remember she has her interview tomorrow.

Damn!

* * *

 **Edward's definitely got it bad but at least Bella is the one good thing in his life at the moment. Unless Carlisle dies overnight, he'll make sure he's at work at some point tomorrow to see her.**

 **He's had to do a lot of growing up in the last two days, but will he still be willing to give up his biking lifestyle if Carlisle survives, or has this epiphany taken the edge off his love of speed and being a Rocker. Growing up and being responsible is a bit rubbish, isn't it?**

Before I go into the FYI's this time, can I refer you back to my Chapter 4 FYI's, where I mentioned Dick Van Dyke's attempt at a Cockney accent in Mary Poppins, and it being rated the worst of all time. The wonderful Mr Van Dyke, (I nearly said 'the wonderful Dick!), has just received an award from BAFTA for his film and television work over the years, and he said this in his acceptance speech. **"I appreciate this opportunity to apologise to the members of BAFTA for inflicting on them the most atrocious Cockney accent in the history of cinema."** Apology accepted, Mr Van Dyke, you are a true gentleman. (Stands up and applauds). He's in the sequel, so it will be interesting to see whether he can replicate it - I truly hope he does.

FYI

 **Open heart surgery** was first performed in 1952, but the first time a heart was stopped and restarted was in the late fifties and was still considered to be a dangerous procedure when Carlisle had his operation.

I presume everyone knows that the **Queen Mary** was a Cunard Liner, and is now permanently moored in Long Beach, California.

The **cross benches** in the House of Lords are where Peers with no political affiliations sit, (like some hereditary Peers, Judges and the Clergy). If Carlisle hadn't been the Master of the Rolls, as a Viscount he could choose to sit on the cross benches or go with his political leanings and sit with either Tory, Labour or Liberal Peers and then be subject to the party's Whips (i.e. being expected to follow the party's voting instructions). Because of his position as a Judge, he cannot be seen to favour any particular political party so has to sit on the cross benches.

In the 1960's, the **Thames** was filthy and biologically dead. Back then, raw sewage, industrial waste and farmland run-off were polluting the river, and in the summer it stunk to high-heaven (I remember it). In the late 60's, the sewage system was modernized and toxic pesticides were banned which allowed vegetation to grow and oxygenate the river. Also, industrial practices improved nationally and it became illegal to pump or dump waste into Britain's waterways. The Thames is now clean and full of fish and other wildlife and thankfully, if you fell in now, you would survive.

 **Next time it's Bella's interview, which will be a real eye-opener for her. She's only worked with women up until now - so 'welcome to the 1960's real world,' Bella.**

Joan xx


	19. Chapter 19

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 18**

Wednesday 8th April, 1964

 **Bella**

Mum gives me a hug before I set off for work on Wednesday morning. She says I look lovely, really grown-up and very professional in my new (from Alice) clothes. Even Mike slipped a 'good luck' note under my door before he left for work. I catch my usual bus which is a bit late today, so the girls are already gathered on the pavement having their last cigarettes. Apart from Sue, they are still totally in the dark I have an interview today.

I look up at Edward's window but his light is off so I presume he hasn't arrived yet. I'm slightly disappointed, as I was hoping he would either be at the bus stop to wish me good luck, or at least looking down at me from his office. I'm tempted to hang around and wait for him to arrive but that would be very presumptuous of me, so feeling quite sad that I haven't seen him, I walk towards the girls in my higher-than-usual heels, trying not to wobble on the uneven pavement.

"Nice shoes," one of the girls comments as I stand with the huddle of smokers.

"Thanks," I mutter and I wonder what they're going to say when I take my coat off. I'm definitely 'dressed-up' compared to what I usually wear, and I'm sure they're going to guess what's going on. We chat outside for about five minutes and I try to stop myself looking up and down the road for Edward, but he's nowhere to be seen and his office still doesn't look occupied. I remember him saying he was very busy this week, so I convince myself he would have wished me luck if he'd been in the office today and try and put my disappointment out of my mind.

At five to nine I follow the girls into the building but I'm still looking over my shoulder until I'm through the foyer. Doreen is already in the cloakroom and she gives me a filthy look as I start unbuttoning my raincoat. I pretend I haven't noticed, but still take a deep breath for courage as I'm anticipating some sort of confrontation when she finds out I've got an interview and she hasn't. I don't have to wait long for a reaction to my clothes because as soon as I hang my coat on the peg, one of the other girls says, "You've got an interview today, haven't you, Bella?"

I nod my head and put my finger to my lips to keep it quiet, but it's too late. Doreen has heard and comes charging towards me and her face is like thunder. Before she has a chance to say anything, Sue jumps between us and pokes a finger in her face.

"Don't you say a word to this girl, Doreen Delaney, or I'll go straight to Mrs Black and you'll be out on your ear. Now piss off out of here and mind your own business."

"Oh really?" Doreen replies and her face is screwed up with rage. "Well, Susan fucking Stevens, I'm sure the editorial staff will be very interested to know that Bella the Whore has only been put forward for the secretary's job because she's screwing Mrs Black's son!"

There's a collective gasp from the other girls, then the cloakroom goes deathly quiet for a second before we hear Mrs Black's voice in the corridor and she's absolutely furious.

"Miss Delaney," she spits as she storms into the cloakroom. "Get your coat and go straight to the Personnel Office where you'll be given your cards and any pay you're owed. You were on a final warning and I've had enough of you and your filthy mouth. Get out!"

Doreen grabs her coat and bag but as she leaves she turns to me and hisses in my face, "Well, at least I've fucked up your chances of promotion, bitch."

When Doreen is out of earshot, Mrs Black orders everyone into the typing pool and makes us all sit down.

"Right," she says, and I can tell she's having difficulty trying to control her anger. "Let's get this cleared up here and now. I was asked _by management,_ several weeks ago, whether there was anyone here I considered suitable to apply for any future secretary positons that came up, and Bella was number one on my list. This was a long time before I found out Bella was seeing my son. Also, Bella didn't know that Jacob was my son until she'd been seeing him for over a week, so any accusation of collusion on anyone's part is without foundation. _If_ Bella is appointed, it will be on her own merit, and I'm sure all of you would want to wish her the best of luck."

"Hear hear," Sue shouts out, which is followed by a chorus of 'good lucks' and 'well done's' from the other girls. Mrs Black continues.

"Now I'm off to sort Doreen out, so get on with your work and we'll hear no more about this."

I breathe a sigh of relief and plug myself in to the Dictaphone machine. Sue is giggling like an idiot next to me and all the girls seem happy that Doreen has gone. About ten minutes later, we see and hear Doreen walking along the corridor that separates the cloakroom from the typing pool. She yells "Fucking bitches," at the top of her voice as she passes our window and that's the last we see and hear from her.

At break time the girls seem more interested in the fact that I'm going out with Mrs Black's son than my interview, which is a bit awkward as I'm still planning to dump him on Friday. I attempt to gloss over our relationship, saying 'it's very early days', and 'we're still getting to know one another', but the girls are already planning the wedding and saying 'Bella Black' sounds really good together. I reply that it makes me sound like a pantomime witch, but they're not having any of it.

At lunchtime I go to the small staff room to eat my sandwich with Sue, being careful not to make a mess of my clothes. I've been trying to pre-empt the questions the editorial staff are going to ask me but I've only ever had one interview in my life so I'm really nervous. Before I return to the typing pool, I go to the cloakroom to check that my face and teeth are clean and to wash my hands thoroughly to make sure they haven't got any ribbon-ink from the typewriter on them.

As I walk past the coat pegs, I notice my raincoat has been hung differently than how I usually hang it, in that the inside lining is showing rather than the outside fabric. I take the coat off the peg and turn it the right way round and immediately notice that the outside material has been ripped to shreds and there's blotches of blue ink from a fountain pen sprayed all over it. I can't help crying out in dismay just as Frances comes out of the loo. I show her what's happened so she dashes off to get Mrs Black who comes in and puts her arm around my shoulders.

"Doreen's probably done this," I say shakily. "I bet she did it on the way out."

"I'm sure she did, Bella, so leave your coat with me. I'll take it to management and sort out some compensation for you. In the meantime, calm yourself down; you've got your interview in half an hour and you'll want to do your best."

"Yes Mrs Black," I say, and wander into the typing pool where word has already got around what Doreen has done.

As I sit at my desk and think about what's happened, I wonder why Doreen hates me so much. I'd never really spoken to her at length before as she didn't really socialise with us, but it was only in the last week or so she had become antagonistic towards me. Somehow she'd found out that Jake was Mrs Black's son and that worried me too. It's possible she might live near Jake of course, but she wasn't at work the day Jake picked me up on his scooter, so how she knew I was his girlfriend is a mystery.

I've only typed a couple of letters before it's time for me to go upstairs for my interview. As I pick my bag up and straighten my skirt, all the girls shout out good luck and I can tell they really mean it, which makes me feel a hundred times better than I did this morning as I was worried they may feel resentful that Mrs Black had singled me out for promotion rather than any of them. East End girls are the best.

With my back straight and my head held high, I walk out of the typing pool and up the stairs, hopefully towards what I pray will be the start of a new chapter in my life. Getting off the bottom rung of life's ladder is always the most challenging and hardest step to take, and I'm determined not to mess up taking my first strides towards a better life.

* * *

I've been sitting on a hard seat in a tiny office while the interview panel is in another room deciding my fate. I passed the shorthand and typing test easily and was then given a list of 'What If's', where I had to write down what action I would take against each given scenario. Most of the questions were common sense and I hoped my answers were what they were looking for. Then I had a fifteen minute interview in front of a panel, including a grey-faced lady from personnel who looked down her nose at me, two middle-aged male editors who were a bit creepy and one of them had a personal hygiene problem, and one of the senior secretaries who seemed very pleasant and encouraging. Now it's just a waiting game.

After about fifteen minutes of staring at the walls, I'm called in and asked to take a seat. The personnel lady and the editors are smiling at each other and I'm hoping this is a good sign. The other secretary is nowhere to be seen.

"Miss Swan," the personnel lady starts formally. "We are prepared to offer you the position on a trial basis only. You passed the skills and aptitude tests successfully so there's no doubt you're a bright girl, but I see that you're not nineteen until September which is very young to be a secretary, and your educational qualifications have also let you down."

"In what way?" I ask.

"Well, you've only been educated to CSE standard rather than GCE's, which is our usual minimum requirement for our secretaries. In fact the only reason we've seen you today is because management are keen to be seen to be promoting in-house and also because of Mrs Black's recommendation, plus you have a pleasant speaking voice which will be more acceptable when you are using the telephone."

"More acceptable?" I repeat. "You mean I don't talk Cockney like the other girls?"

"Exactly, Miss Swan. The Express has standards to maintain and an image we like to project to our clients."

I'm about to point out that the Express building is in EC4, which is technically in the 'East End', but I stop myself as I guess putting them straight wouldn't go down too well, so I stay silent and smile sweetly while gritting my teeth. I feel so angry for the other girls in the typing pool as I know now why they are still there, and I've been elevated up the ladder because 'I don't talk effing Cockney.' This woman has effectively stated that anyone from the East End has generally lower standards because of their accent, which is insulting.

"How long is the trial period," I ask calmly.

"Just a month," she replies. "We should know by then whether you'll fit in with the other secretaries and be able to cope with what's required of a secretary. If it doesn't work out, you can return to the typing pool on your original salary."

I'm boiling by now and I just want to get out of the room. I feel like telling them to stick their job up their arses, but I know I'd be biting off my nose to spite my face if I did that. This job is a stepping stone for me, and it would be easier for me to get another job elsewhere if I already had a secretary's position on my CV.

"When would you like me to start?" I ask as politely as possible.

"On Monday morning, 13th April. You'll be working for Mr Townshend and he would like you to be here at eight forty-five so he can talk to you before the editors meeting at nine. He wasn't able to attend the interview today because of a family emergency so you'll meet him for the first time then."

"That's fine," I say. "Thank you; I'm pleased to accept the offer. Please tell Mr Townshend that I'm looking forward to meeting him."

I stand up to leave and walk towards the door. As I open it, I overhear one of the male editors saying to the other, "Nice arse, wouldn't mind getting my paws on that one day," and then they both laugh.

I carry on walking as though I haven't heard the comment until I'm in the corridor, where once I've turned the corner leading to the stairs, I lean against the wall and calm myself before going any further. I want to scream I'm so angry, and then go back in the room, kick both editors in the balls and admonish the lady from personnel who sat there and listened to that disgusting comment without reacting. Not only that, I'm fuming because of the obvious prejudice towards anyone with a Cockney accent, as well as 'Certificates of Secondary Education' instead of GCE's.

I can swallow the comment about my age because I accept I am young to be a secretary, but the insinuation that I might not 'fit in', and they have 'standards to keep up', sticks in my throat and makes my blood boil. This is blatant proof I have an indelible label stamped on my forehead stating that I haven't been properly educated and therefore cannot be expected to be able to socially converse with the other more sophisticated members of staff. It's obvious to me now that the CSE stigma can never be shaken off, so Secondary Modern kids like me are destined from the moment they leave school to be forced to work in low paid employment for the rest of their lives.

As I reflect on what the woman said, it makes me wonder why I've been invited to walk upstairs to their exclusive club in the first place. Maybe they want to prove a point that CSE girls can't do the job and I'll be kicked back down to the typing pool at the end of the month so the bitch from Personnel can smugly say she was right all along? If this is the case, I'm now more determined than ever that this isn't going to happen to me if I can help it, but I know I've got a fight on my hands. I'm still angry, but I pull myself away from the wall and head for the stairs, before I change my mind and go back in the office and tell the three of them to go eff-themselves, which of course would reinforce that bitch's inference that people like me have low standards. Urgh!

I make my way downstairs and Mrs Black catches me as I walk towards the typing pool. I presume I have to go back in there until half past five, but I honestly just want to carry on walking towards the exit door, where I'll be able to scream at the top of my voice.

"How did you get on, dear," she asks excitedly.

"They're giving me a trial run for a month, to see if I fit in," I answer truthfully, but trying unsuccessfully to hide the sarcasm in my voice. Then I jokingly put on a Cockney accent and add, "They loik tha' I tork proppa," then do the eye-roll thing.

Mrs Black chuckles and then looks serious. "Don't knock it, Bella. You're the first Secondary Modern girl to get up those stairs, so just think of yourself as a trail-blazer for the future, and, more importantly, be better than all those snotty-nosed Grammar School girls."

"I'll do my best, Mrs Black, and thank you for your support. I wouldn't have got there without you."

"That's my pleasure, Bella. Anyway, I've had a word with management and they've agreed to give you some money towards a new coat and I've topped it up too. Somebody should have escorted Doreen off the premises, so it's partly my fault this happened and I apologise. There's five pounds in this envelope which should go a long way towards buying something suitable."

"Thank you Mrs Black," I reply gratefully and give her a hug.

"Now off you go home and relax; you've had a stressful day today. Luckily it's warm this afternoon so you shouldn't get cold without a coat so I'll see you tomorrow morning. Only two more days in the typing pool for you, Bella Swan."

I wander through the outside doors in a daze. I should be thrilled I've got the job, but the attitude of those three people who had my career in their hands has really pissed me off. But I'm going to do what Mrs Black says. I'm going to make sure my lack of education and tender years won't stop me from being a brilliant secretary, and if any man tries to put their paws on my arse, they'll be talking in a soprano voice for the foreseeable future. And then I wonder whether this Mr Townshend is a sexist pig like those other two creeps, and that thought both worries and depresses me.

I stand for a moment outside the Express building trying to calm myself plus willing Edward to look out the window, but he isn't there. There's no light on, but as it's bright and sunny he wouldn't need it. I'm still steaming from the interview but at least Mrs Black is letting me go home early. It's only half past four and I debate whether to have a quick look round the shops now to see if I can find a suitable summer coat, but decide to wait until Saturday so I can drag Alice with me to help me choose, not that she'll need much dragging because she's addicted to shopping.

I wait for a gap in the traffic and cross the road in front of Edward's building then wander down to the bus stop. There's no queue so I've obviously just missed one which is annoying, so I stand on the side of the road and watch the world go by.

I've only been there about thirty seconds when I hear my name being called. I look around to see Edward jogging towards me with a broad smile on his face. I immediately notice he looks tired because he has dark circles under his eyes that weren't there on Monday and I wonder what's wrong.

"How did you get on?" he says as soon as he reaches me.

"I got it, sort of. They're giving me a trial run for a month," I reply as I gaze at his gorgeous face. "Are you alright, Edward? You look like you're going down with something."

"I'm sort of okay," he replies. "My dad had a heart attack on Monday so it's been a very stressful couple of days for me and my family. I've just come into work for a few hours to catch up."

"I'm so sorry," I reply. "Will he be alright?"

"We don't know. He's had major surgery and he's still unconscious, but at least he's alive. I just wanted you to know that I might not be around for a while, so don't take it personally if you don't see a book against the window for the rest of the week."

"Oh right, thanks for the warning and I hope your dad's okay. Anyway, I don't know what time my lunch break is going to be from Monday, so just look out the window when you can and hopefully it'll work out. That's if you want to of course."

"I definitely want to, Bella. I'm looking forward to our next adventure. Congratulations about the job. I'm really pleased for you."

"Thanks, Edward. When I next see you, I'll tell you why I nearly told them to stick their job where the sun doesn't shine. Patronising bastards!"

"I look forward to it," he says and grins. "Look, I can see your bus in the distance and I've got to get back as I've got a stack of work to do. If I don't see you before the weekend, have a great one and good luck for Monday."

He's looking directly into my eyes when he's saying this, almost like he's searching for something, then he turns and jogs back to his office. As he goes through the door he waves and then disappears.

I'm staring at the door slightly in shock when he reappears again and shouts out to me.

"I should've said you look really nice, Bella," then he disappears for good.

I'm just getting over that last statement when my bus pulls up and I take a seat by the window. As we pass Edward's building, I look up at his office and I can just see him standing in the window watching the bus move away. I'm even more hopeful now that he is seeing this as more than just an innocent friendship and maybe next time he'll ask me for a date.

He likes me and I like him, but I wonder whether he'll be able to breach the gap between who he is and who I am. This isn't a Romeo and Juliet scenario, where the subjects were on the same social level even though their families were at war. This is Eliza Doolittle meets Professor Higgins in real life; an East End girl meets a posh bloke, a poor girl meets a rich bloke, a Secondary Modern girl meets a Cambridge graduate, a Mod meets a Rocker.

"Oh sod it; I'm **_so_** going to dump Jake on Friday night."

* * *

 **Edward**

I rush up the stairs to my office before Jane has a chance to ask who I was shouting at. Replying to her question would prevent me from watching Bella get on the bus and I want to see her again. She looked so elegant and smart in that outfit and her legs looked fabulous in those shoes. If I took her home to meet my parents looking like this, there'd be no eyebrows raised, even though I don't give a toss what my parents think now. I'm so pleased she's got the job, as this success will help her self-esteem as far as her future career is concerned. I loved it when she described the interview panel as 'patronising bastards,' as she'd turned into 'feisty Bella'; in other words the version of the girl who stars in every one of my daydreams.

I stand by the window and notice she looks up as the bus passes by. I'm not bothered she's spotted me; she must know by now that I'm interested in something more than just friendship, but the problem for me is she already has a boyfriend so I'm stuffed in this respect, until she tells me she's dumped him which hopefully will be sooner rather than later.

As the bus disappears from view I recall my resolve not to tie myself into a relationship with anyone, but Jasper's words from the other night come back to me again, almost like I've got a parrot sitting on my shoulder repeating the same phrase over and over. ' _She just suddenly appeared in my life without warning, and it was like I'd been struck by lightning. If the same happens to you, don't dismiss it because 'it isn't the right time'. Love doesn't work like that.'_

I tried to read her mind just now. I was looking for something in her eyes, like desire or affection for me, but there was nothing there unless she can hide it very well. Maybe I'm a novelty to her; just a bit of fun she can talk to her friends about, but our friendship is still in its early days so maybe she's still trying to figure me out.

I attempt to look at myself from her point of view. For a start she doesn't have a high opinion of herself, so she's probably wondering why a guy like me is interested in someone like her. Maybe she's suspicious of me and suspects I might be planning on taking advantage of her, which is the last thing on my mind. The other possibility is that she's doing her best not to get close to me in a romantic way as she doesn't suppose I would be looking at her in that way, so maybe she's trying to avoid being disappointed or heart-broken in the future.

I can't read her mind unfortunately and as I'm presuming she won't want to two-time her boyfriend, I'll have to take each day as it comes and let our friendship progress naturally. Problem is, I've got to the age of almost twenty-five and have never 'pursued' a girl before; they've always pursued me, so I'm on a very steep learning curve which is interesting _and_ frustrating as I'm also very impatient. When I see something I want, I don't like to wait for it. Delayed gratification is a nonsense to me.

I recall the agonising weeks I spent waiting for the motorbike auction where Sadie was coming up for sale. I'd tried to buy her privately, but was knocked back by the owner who was greedy, like me. After that disappointment I could hardly sleep I was so agitated, because my determination to own her dominated my thoughts all day, every day, until the moment I won the auction and she became mine. I know I'm going through the same trauma with Bella, but whether I'll have the same success this time will not be solely dependent on my persistence.

I settle at my desk again and look at three piles of files Margaret has marked 'Urgent', 'Very Urgent' and 'Overdue'. I'm aware that John and Simon have taken on more than their fair share of Jenks' cases because of my dad, but I've got to pull my weight as well. So I set to and concentrate on the job in hand until seven o'clock when I know Joy the cleaner will be kicking me out. I call the hospital before I leave and dad's condition is unchanged but the nurse tells me they are going to try and wake him tomorrow which is a good sign apparently.

When I get home, Jasper has dinner waiting for me and I tell him he'd make a good wife. He tells me to "shut it," and threatens I'll be wearing the dinner rather than eating it if I make that joke again. After I've washed up, I check on Sadie and Tara and note they have a new companion, as Jasper's scooter has taken up residence. I give the pathetic excuse for a vehicle a cursory glance and have to admit it's a very nice bike as scooters go. At least he hasn't been crass enough to bolt on additional lights or mirrors, like Jake the Jerk's bike. If only he knew how ridiculous he looked.

I phone mum at the Savoy to check she's okay, which she is, and have a quick chat with Rosie who I can tell is at the end of her tether. I'd like to offer to take over at the weekend but I want to get down to the Ace if I can as it seems like an age since I was there. This will be dependent on whether dad comes round from his operation of course, but hopefully I'll be able to make it.

I think about the guys at the Ace and the fact that my days as a Rocker could be numbered. If this is the case, I'm going to ensure I never lose touch with Emmett, as he's been the nearest thing to a brother to me while Jasper's been out of the country. Maybe I should gift him Tara and Sadie? At least I'd know they'd gone to a good home as he would respect and look after them like children. However if dad has written me out of his Will, I may eventually need the money they cost me. I dismiss that possibility from my thoughts and resolve to cross that bridge if it came to it.

I have an early night as I'm still exhausted from missing a full night's sleep on Monday, and drop off dreaming of making love to Bella on my motorbike, (as usual).

* * *

 **Bella**

 **Thursday 9th April 1964**

The girls are really thrilled for me when I get into work on Thursday morning. Obviously I don't tell them what the personnel officer said about their Cockney accents holding them back, but I do divulge what they said about CSE's and GCE's, which really annoys them. However the fact they were giving me a trial was good news to them and they all agreed if I did well, this would clear the way for them to follow me. I didn't have the heart to tell them that unless they had elocution lessons they had no chance of promotion, especially while that bitch was in charge of personnel.

I don't see Edward at all today. There's no book in the window when I arrive for work or when I go out for lunch. As it's bright and sunny, there's no need for him to have a light on so I haven't got a clue whether he's in there or not. I hope his dad is okay and the reason he can't get out for lunch is because something awful has happened, but I'll have to wait until I see him again to find out why.

When I get home in the evening, Mike says that Johnson was really pleased with my article and will try and contact some pirate radio DJ's to see if they're willing to give the paper an interview. Mike won't tell me what the column is going to be called though. He says I've got to wait until the paper comes out and then it'll be a surprise. He says it's a good title and he's sure I'll approve.

* * *

 **Friday 10th April 1964**

Friday comes and I'm already nervous about what's going to happen tonight as I hate conflict. I'm having second thoughts about dumping Jake as Mrs Black has been so nice to me that I can't imagine what she'll think if her protégé gives her son the boot even before she starts her new job. If I dump Jake at The Roxy, I know his ego won't allow him to accept the fact that he's anyway at fault and he'll probably make up a story to his mum that I've been two-timing him or something else derogatory about me, so I've almost made up my mind to stick with him for a couple of weeks longer even though I know I'm going to hate it.

The day goes by really quickly and Mrs Black and the girls in the office have had a whip-round and bought me a really nice fountain pen and biro set and a good luck card which they've all signed. I'm really touched and will miss the camaraderie of the typing pool immensely, especially Sue who has kept me sane for the last two years. At the end of the day I pick up what I hope will be my final pay packet with only eight pounds in and leave the typing pool for possibly the last time.

On the way home I buy a copy of the Advertiser, and as soon as I get in I rush upstairs to look at my article in private. I whip through the pages and there it is, and I'm absolutely thrilled with the title.

 **THE WEEKEND STARTS HERE!**

Johnson has pinched the opening words from Ready Steady Go, and it's _so_ appropriate:

 ** _A New Regular Feature for the Young Generation of Londoners_** **_from our very own 'youth correspondent' Aaron Y Moss._**

I laugh when I see the fake reporter's name; if you say it quickly, it sounds like 'anonymous' which is really clever and amusing.

I read the whole article which has been shortened slightly from my draft and some words and sentences have also been altered, but about ninety-five percent of it is mine. I'm thrilled how it looks on the page as whoever added the pictures and art work has done a fantastic job to make it look appealing to my generation. At the end of the article, Johnson has added a footnote inviting any Pirate DJ's reading this to contact the newspaper for their comments or if they want to be interviewed by Aaron Y Moss.

I'm feeling absolutely elated at how the article has turned out and I'm already wracking my brains trying to decide on the subject for next week, but I need to get ready to go out. I shoot into the bathroom and have a quick bath and wash my hair. While I'm drying it in my room, Mike knocks on my door shouting, "are you decent?" I call out that he can come in and he appears with a stupid grin on his face and hands me a small envelope.

"What's this?" I ask.

"Your first payment for being a journalist. Congratulations on the article by the way, it looks amazing. Open it," he adds pointing to the envelope and it's obvious he knows something I don't.

I gingerly open the envelope expecting to see five pound notes, but instead there's a single ten pound note in there. I've never had either a five or ten pound note in my life before as my wages are always paid in single pounds, so I look at it in wonder.

"Why has he given me ten pounds," I ask as I remember what the deal was; five pounds per article.

"He's paid you for last week's article as well, Bella. He said five pounds for each article, so he's done the decent thing and paid you for both."

My mouth drops open in shock and then I almost hyperventilate I'm so excited. I start doing the mental arithmetic in my head. After paying mum, I've got four pounds left from the Express, plus five pounds from Mrs Black, plus ten pounds from Johnson, which means I've got nineteen pounds to spend minus what I need for the weekend and my travel next week. I've never had so much money in my life before so I should be able to get a fabulous coat and some other new clothes from whatever's left.

Mike leaves me to get ready and I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I can't believe that nice things are happening to me at last and I feel absolutely elated. New job, more money and Edward!

I feel like really celebrating tonight but I can't tell anyone except Alice about the article. I don't want anyone to know about the Secretary's job either, just in case I don't 'fit in' and lose it in a month's time. Edward of course is my special secret known only to me, and I'm not going to divulge anything about him to anyone, even Alice.

I finally make my mind up not to dump Jake tonight as I don't want to spoil a good day by ending it with a fight and an argument. I've already thought up a good excuse to put the brakes on if he wants to get frisky tonight. I'm going to tell him it's the wrong time of the month which I'm hoping should frighten the daylights out of him. My friend is due next week so I'm just going to pretend it's a little bit early. If he suggests another trip to the storeroom, I don't know what I'll do. Maybe I can convince Jaz and Alice to leave with us if he wants to 'go early' again. That should put the mockers on any nefarious activity if they hang around.

Mum shouts up the stairs that dinner's ready so I shoot down and hand over my keep money. I tell her I'll up it to five pounds next week and she gives me a hug because I've offered it to her without her having to ask.

Ready Steady Go has a special programme tonight from Wembley and they've called it 'The Rave Mad Mod Ball'. It's starring all the top British groups apart from The Beatles, and I'm annoyed as I'd love to watch the whole show as it looks and sounds amazing, but I have to get ready. I leave it to the last minute then go upstairs and fling my clothes and a bit of make-up on, then head downstairs when I hear the scooters outside.

I give Jake a quick kiss on the lips and put my helmet on and we roar off towards The Roxy. As we're travelling more scooters join us, and by the time we get to The Roxy there are about twenty bikes careering around the streets and everyone is laughing and joking. It's the 10th April and it's the first time it's still been daylight at eight o'clock. The air is warm and summer is on its way. I'm having fun, I'm surrounded by friends and I'm determined to have a good time if it kills me.

So why am I feeling agitated when we pull into the Roxy's car park? As I clamber off Jake's scooter, I have an alarming premonition that something awful is going to happen tonight but I can't imagine what it could be.

* * *

 **So what do you think is going to happen? Bella's too nice for her own good for one thing. You can see her point about not wanting to seem ungrateful to Jake's mum, but she needs to dump him a.s.a.p. Do it Bella!**

 **Those editors were awful saying that about Bella's arse, but sexual innuendos were blatant then and girls had to put up with so much. Thank goodness times have changed even though it still isn't perfect. (I wrote this before the Weinstein scandal BTW). Fingers crossed that Mr Townshend isn't that way inclined as well or Bella isn't going to last long in that environment, unless she grows an incredibly thick skin over the weekend.**

 **Carlisle is still in the land of the living, so Edward is off the hook for the moment. Jasper is making himself at home, so hopefully he'll bring Alice back to the house for a visit soon.**

 **Thanks to everyone who says they enjoy my FYI's - I've loved doing the research for this story, so I'm really pleased you're having fun reading all the information I've added.**

FYI

The Ready Steady Go programme I've mentioned actually happened on that Friday. If you put the ' **Rave Mad Mod Ball** ' into Google, there's lots of info about who was on the show, plus photographs of all the stars together (including the Rolling Stones. Cilla Black and Cathy McGowan, who I've mentioned before). I can remember the programme. It was actually a bit of a mess as it was being broadcast live, but at the time it was great fun. If you have some spare time and can pick up the YouTube videos in your country, watch some of the old Ready Steady Go's. They are a brilliant nostalgia trip - not just for the music, but also the clothes and hairstyles and the way people danced as well.

In response to Shaz's review (thanks Shaz), in 1964 the **National Health Service** had been in operation for 15 years, so Carlisle's hospital stay and on-going treatment would be free; in other words he wouldn't get an invoice when he checks out (alive or dead)! For those of you who don't understand how our system works, all UK citizens in work pay a separate tax called National Insurance, which is deducted proportionally from your salary. This pays for the National Health Service, State Pensions and all other benefits, including maternity benefit. It is a very fair system as it takes the worry away from being ill or having an accident anytime in the future. At the moment, working-age UK citizens only have to pay for prescriptions (£8.60 per item). The NHS isn't perfect, in that you sometimes have to wait a while for non-urgent surgery, plus our A &E departments are overstretched at the moment as we don't have enough GP's. Also the effect on the NHS of the rapidly growing elderly population hasn't been properly addressed. But it is still the 'jewel in our crown', and the vast majority of Brits would fight tooth and nail to keep it from being privatised. You can still pay for private treatment if you wish by the way.

 **No other FYI's. Next chapter the character who is going to cause the most aggravation in this story crosses a line with Edward and it all starts to kick-off. We are heading towards a lot of drama, where all the important strands of the story will come together, and we touch on a lot more true stuff that was happening at the time.**

Joan xx


	20. Chapter 20

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 19**

 **Bella**

The pack roars into The Roxy's car park and as soon as Jake brings the scooter to a halt, he helps me off the pillion and gives me a full-on French kiss. I'm not going to fight him off in front of his mates, so I totally imagine its Edward doing the kissing which makes it slightly more bearable for me and probably a lot more pleasurable for Jake as well. Everyone seems happy and relaxed as we walk into the club together, but I definitely have a black cloud and a sense of foreboding hanging over me and I don't think it's anything to do with my decision not to dump Jake just yet.

Alice is thrilled to see Jaz again as she's only spoken on the phone with him this week. Apparently he's left home and is now living with his cousin in Kensington, plus he's been taking driving lessons every night so he can drive a van at work, which was news to Alice and me. As soon as they get inside the club he's all over her, and it's lovely to see the way they are together. Their attachment to each other is also a clear indication that my feelings for Jake are nothing like what Alice feels for Jaz, so I know I'm wasting my time with him. I just hope Mrs Black doesn't think ill of me when I dump him as she's been so good to me.

Jake is attentive again and is constantly complimenting me, so it's patently obvious he thinks he's onto a winner tonight, which means I've got to be on my guard. As soon as we get to the area where our group usually congregates, I spot Jessica hovering nearby and she keeps smirking at me for some reason as if she knows something I don't. I notice she has a massive love bite on the right side of her neck which looks really classy (not) and she's made no attempt to hide it with either clothes or make-up, which makes me start to suspect something's going on. Then I think back to last weekend when Jake disappeared both days and even his mum didn't know where he was. I decide to front him out on it.

"Shame it was rotten weather on Sunday," I comment innocently. "Did you stay at home?"

"Yep, I had a day in front of the TV," he lied. Then he dug himself into a deeper hole.

"Anyway, I twisted my ankle playing football on Saturday morning, so going for a walk wasn't really on the cards. Pity you don't have a phone; I would've called you and you could've come over and massaged it for me, plus some other parts of my anatomy." He grinned and winked at me when he said this then flung his arm across my shoulders and pulled me into his side.

"Oh right," I say out loud, totally ignoring the blatant sexual innuendo. "Lying bastard," I say to myself and I begin to think again about dumping him tonight. It's feeling more and more like the right thing to do and I'm starting to feel quite brave, but I ponder whether to do it now or wait until the end of the evening, even though I might end up having to make my own way home.

I spot Jessica smirking at me again and two and two are definitely starting to add up to make five. I honestly don't give a toss he's obviously two-timing me with Jessica, but I don't want to give her the satisfaction of witnessing me having a show-down with my soon to be ex-boyfriend. I decide then to dump him on my doorstep after he's taken me home. This at least would solve my transport problem and would also be safer for me as I could dive indoors if he started to get stroppy.

The club is quiet this evening because most of the boys that haven't got girlfriends are at the football tonight. West Ham are playing Birmingham at home so the dance floor is almost one hundred percent inhabited by girls until about half past nine, when the boys burst into the club singing 'I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles' at the top of their voices, which strangely enough is the West Ham Football Club anthem. It's obviously been a good match and I find out very quickly they won five-nil, so the bar is rammed from then on and the atmosphere picks up.

When I next look at my watch it's already coming up to ten-thirty, so I'm just waiting for Jake to suggest leaving early and I'm ready with my excuse. I change my mind again and decide now might be the right time to give him the elbow so I start thinking about what I'm going to say to him. I haven't had a chance to discuss any of this with Alice as she's stuck like glue to Jaz, almost like she doesn't want to let him out of her sight which is understandable.

Smokey Robinson's latest record comes on and Jake pulls me onto the dance floor for a slow dance and wraps his arms around me. I tense up because I can guess what's coming but what he says next isn't what I was expecting.

"Guess what I've got in my pocket," he says directly into my ear because the music is so loud.

"I don't know, Jake. Surprise me," I reply and I purposely sound totally disinterested.

Jake hasn't noticed my sarcastic tone and pulls a bunch of keys out of his jacket pocket and dangles them in front of my face.

"What are those for?" I ask.

"They're car keys," he replies and I pick up the excitement in his voice.

"Why have you got car keys?" I say as I know he hasn't got a driving licence.

"Ian's brought his dad's Cortina to the club tonight and it's parked around the back. He's given me the keys so you and I can get a bit naughty on the back seat. I've got Johnnies with me so you don't have to worry about getting pregnant. I know what I'm doing."

I immediately stop dancing and push myself away from him and for a few seconds I'm speechless. I want to slap him so hard, but I don't want to give Jessica the pleasure of seeing us fighting, so I storm off to the edge of the dance floor where its quieter, sensing he's following me, then I count to ten in my head before turning around and laying into him.

"Step by step you promised." I hiss. "I mean, _are you fucking serious_ , Jake? Do you honestly think it's a girl's dream to give it up for the first time on the back seat of a poxy Cortina behind The Roxy? What sort of girl do you think I am?"

I don't give him the opportunity to answer because I'm on a roll now and I'm actually starting to enjoy myself.

"What was it you said to me, you arsehole? 'I'm a rose in a garden of weeds,' or some other bullshit like that. Well this _rose_ is telling you to shove it; in fact there's a weed over there gawping at us. Go and wave your keys at her, you creep."

I point to Jessica who's unfortunately relishing every second of this, but when I refer to her as a 'weed' she looks seriously pissed off, but Jake to his credit is still fixated on me and his mouth has dropped open.

"Look, Jake," I yell again. "Look where I'm pointing. _There's_ a weed in garden of roses, why don't you go and fertilize that with your tiny dick."

"But Bella ….." he said, but I wasn't finished.

"So you stayed in at the weekend, did you? You hurt your ankle playing football, did you? Unfortunately for you, you lying git, not only did your mates drop you in the shit by telling me they hadn't seen you all day Saturday, but so did your mum, who asked me whether I enjoyed my weekend with you."

"But Bella…" he tries again.

"But Bella what?" I ask, and the sarcasm in my tone is obvious. "Don't tell me you still prefer _me_ to Jessica effing Stanley, who has her legs in the air more often than the British Gymnastics Team. What the hell do you want to say to me?"

Jake opens his mouth to say something, hesitates, and then turns away shaking his head, but he doesn't walk in Jessica's direction like I'm expecting him to, but towards the exit door. Jessica looks surprised for a second then runs after him and tries to put her arm through his, but he shakes her off.

"Fuck off you slag," he says to her quite nastily and shrugs her away so hard she almost overbalances.

"Jake, you promised me," she wails then runs off to the Ladies' loo in tears.

Jaz and Alice have been watching from a suitable distance and walk over to where I'm standing.

"Are you okay," Alice asks and puts her arm around my shoulders.

"To be honest, I've never felt better," I reply which is a bit of an exaggeration to be fair. "It's weird, but I don't hate Jake. He's just a juvenile idiot who thinks he's James Bond, when actually he's a bit of a prat where girls are concerned. I feel quite sorry for him actually."

"You're too nice," Alice says. "I would've kneed him in the balls."

Jaz whispers something in Alice's ear then makes his way to the exit. I guess he's going after Jake to make sure he's okay.

"I need a drink," I say and we walk together to the bar where I make the totally rational decision to try something alcoholic for the first time in my life. I know I might regret it later but what the hell. Today has been a surprising day in many respects so I decide to finish it in style.

"I'd like a vodka and lime," I say to Stan. "And a Rum and Black for Alice."

"Coming right up," he replies with a smirk as he knows I never drink anything but Coke, and I notice he puts double shots in each drink. I pass over the money without commenting and take a sip, and discover to my surprise that it's actually really nice and refreshing.

Jaz spots us at the bar and relates what happened when he found Jake.

"He's really upset," he tells me. "He knows he's been a complete prick and regrets treating you like all the other girls. He wants me to tell you he's sorry and whether you'd reconsider dumping him."

"You can tell him apology accepted, but also its best we finish it. Tell him I'm not ready for a full-on relationship at the moment and I'm sure there's plenty of other _nice_ girls out there ready to jump in my place. Also tell him no hard feelings, Jaz."

Jaz disappears again then comes back about ten minutes later to tell me that Jake has gone home on his own. I actually feel a bit guilty calling him an arsehole and saying out loud he has a tiny dick, but Jake needed to learn that it's not acceptable to two-time, or lie, or obviously tell Ian and whoever else was listening that he wanted his keys so he could shag me on the back seat of his car. Even calling Jessica a slag was a low thing to do as she's no worse than him when you think about it. Actually, I don't feel guilty at all; he deserved every word, the lying, disrespectful bastard.

The last record is being played and the evening has fallen flat for me now and I really want to go home. I'm resigned to having to get the bus until Riley comes over and offers me a lift on his scooter as he lives not far from me. I gratefully accept the offer and I leave with the others at eleven. Jessica is nowhere to be seen so I presume she left straight after the row but obviously not with Jake.

I arrange to go over to Alice's on Saturday morning so she can help me choose a coat then slide onto Riley's pillion. It feels strange putting my arm around another guy and I can't help imagining being on the back of Edward's motorbike and clinging onto him as he races along the roads at speeds much faster than a scooter could ever achieve. That thought strangely excites me and I start to tingle again, _down there_ , but then I think of the implications of me going out with a Rocker.

My dad would have a coronary!

* * *

 **Edward**

Thursday comes and goes and I resist the temptation to meet Bella at lunchtime. I've got piles of work to catch up on so I put my head down and work my socks off. Dad has improved slightly in that he woke for about an hour this morning and then went into a deep sleep again. The staff at the hospital are not unduly concerned and have warned us he'll be in Intensive Care for at least a week and then in a cardiac ward for a few weeks after that. He's still officially critical, but the doctors have given us permission to begin to feel optimistic he will get through this.

Friday arrives and it's another day of slog. Mr Jenks comes in for a while and I'm pleased to hear that his wife is being discharged from hospital at the weekend but will need nursing at home. He says he'll hardly be in for the next fortnight but to call him if there's a problem.

I leave early as I want to see dad before I go to the Ace tonight as I haven't seen him since the operation. I get a cab to the hospital and make my way up to ICU then check in with the nurse before going on the ward. She tells me that dad is awake but he might nod off in the middle of saying something so I shouldn't be perturbed if this happens. I laugh under my breath as he was prone to doing this at home, especially if he'd been knocking back the single-malt.

I walk cautiously over to the bed and see that dad has been propped up on a stack of pillows. He's still connected to a variety of scary-looking machines but the oxygen tent has been removed and he's now got a small mask over his nose and mouth. His eyes are closed as I approach him, so I cheerily say "Hi dad," as if I'd just walked into the drawing room at home.

His eyelids slowly open and when they fix on me, the look of delight on his face nearly makes me burst into tears. I never thought I'd see him alive again, and to see his reaction when he recognises me just knocks me for six. I'm not an emotional man, but apart from my initial sob in the taxi on the way to A&E, this is the nearest I've got to properly crying since I was about twelve, which was when my parents abandoned me for the first time at Eton. I didn't even cry when my grandparents died, so this emotional overload takes me by surprise.

"Edward," he mumbles under the mask then he removes it, which I presume he's allowed to do. "Took your bloody time," he added with a weak smile.

"Sorry dad," I reply. "The hospital said only two visitors at a time yesterday, so I let mum and Rosie come first. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been stomped on by an elephant then left in the middle of the Masai to die of thirst. Any chance you could smuggle in the _Glen Fiddich_ when you next come in?"

I chuckle and shake my head. His whiskey days are over but I'm not going to be the one to break it to him. I'll let the medical staff do that difficult job.

"Can't do that I'm afraid, dad. Not a good idea with all the drugs you're taking."

Dad's eyes roll back in his head and he mutters something that luckily I can't make out because I'm sure it isn't polite. He puts his oxygen mask back on and breathes steadily for a few minutes.

"Bit of a close shave I've had, eh?" he says when he removes it again.

"Yes," I agree. "You're lucky this hospital is so close to the Lords and you weren't in Haslemere."

"I wouldn't have had a heart attack in Haslemere, Edward. I was having a ding-dong row with some uppity Peers when the bugger gave up on me. That problem we talked about; there's dodgy dealings going on already."

That interests me but I wasn't going to push him for information. "Don't worry about that for the moment, dad," I reply. "Is there anything you need, other than whiskey?"

"Only to get out of this place and go home but that won't be for a while, will it?"

I shake my head as there's no positive answer to that.

"So, what's happening in the world at the moment?"

I tell him that Jasper had moved in with me and that the trial of the Great Train Robbers is nearing its conclusion, but as I'm talking his eyes close and I can tell he's fallen asleep. I check the printout on his heart monitor which shows he'd been agitated when he was talking about the Lords, so I was glad he hadn't continued with his story.

I replace his oxygen mask and sit and watch him for a while and notice how much his face has aged since the party which was only seven days ago. I recall he'd boasted that he was fit and healthy, but I suspect he knew he had a problem as he'd obviously seen a doctor recently.

After about half an hour of sitting quietly with him, I leave the hospital and jog over Westminster Bridge to get the tube home. Jasper has left some cold chicken and a potato salad in the fridge for me, so after eating and washing up, I get changed into my leather jacket and trousers and head off to the Ace.

I'm not even tempted to push Sadie tonight. The fastest I travel is somewhere between sixty-five and seventy which is walking pace for her, but I've decided not to take any risks with my life while dad's sits on a knife-edge. I make a mental note to find out about taking Sadie on a track day where I could ride her legally and safely at high speed, and decide to ask Emmett whether he would be up for doing the same with Bonnie.

I park Sadie next to Bonnie and saunter into the Ace. Most of the Friday crowd are sitting around our usual tables and there's a larger gathering of Hells Angels congregating in their own corner than normal. There's a chorus of welcome from both sides as I walk in and it does seem like an age since I've been here, but it's actually only two weeks since the Easter weekend when we all met to go to Clacton; it's just that a lot has happened since then.

I spot Tanya sitting in our corner and she gives me a wink and nods her head towards the Ladies room. I shake my head and mouth 'later' and give her one of my sexy winks she likes in return. I notice Sam's giving me a filthy look and I get the feeling he's got his eyes on Tanya as well which doesn't bother me in the slightest. I've never staked a claim on her and would definitely not fight him if he wanted to make a move. Tanya's her own boss and who she goes with is entirely up to her.

I take my usual seat next to Emmett and it occurs to me I haven't even thought about Tanya on the way down here, or even about the possibility of having sex tonight. It's as though I've completely dismissed her from my thoughts because all my fantasies are about Bella now. I therefore come to the honourable conclusion that it would be totally wrong of me to have sex with Tanya tonight if I was imagining the girl I was fucking is Bella. Then I admonish myself for putting the words 'Bella' and 'fuck' in the same sentence as it seems disrespectful to think of being with her in that way. Then I admonish myself again, because I wouldn't have thought twice about 'fucking' Tanya in the past and I feel like apologising to Tanya for being an arse for mentally putting her in the _'available'_ or ' _sex without feeling_ ' category, as she totally doesn't deserve to be thought of in that way.

"Shit!" I say to myself philosophically and shake my head to re-jig my brain cells. "I must be growing-up and getting a conscience at last."

The other guys are talking about bike-related stuff and I'm nodding my head, pretending to take in what's being said, but my thoughts are only about what could be going on thirty miles away in the East End and I wonder whether Bella is with Jake the Jerk by now. I can feel myself getting agitated, and I know it's a combination of anger and jealousy, but there's nothing I can do about it so I try and concentrate on what's being talked about, but it's no use.

Emmett elbows me in the ribs and waves his hand in front of my eyes.

"Are you there, Eddie," he asks jokingly. "We've been talking but you sure ain't listening."

"Sorry," I reply. "My mind's somewhere else tonight. Just ignore me for the moment."

Emmett gives me a funny look but carries on talking to the other guys. They're still discussing bikes and the ride down to Clacton, then the 'almost fracas' on the beach. Emmett says something along the lines of he doesn't want to get involved with any future confrontations or bank holiday punch ups, then one guy calls him a 'pussy', which is an expression I've never heard before. Emmett of course doesn't get riled, but explains quite calmly that if he was arrested, the police would easily discover he shouldn't be in the country and he'd be packed off back to America where he'd be jailed as a draft-dodger. This revelation ends the conversation dead.

James walks into the Ace at that point and I notice he doesn't get anything like the enthusiastic welcome I did. He's never been popular because he stinks, and on top of that he's an offensive human being with racist and misogynistic views which none of the others share. As I watch him swaggering towards us, I think back to when we were in the car park in Clacton where he'd quickly allied himself with some of the more aggressive Rockers from the other packs. It was obvious to the Ace guys who were there that he'd only gone to Clacton for a fight and his allegiance to our pack was being questioned. There was a general consensus that he attracted trouble and his aggressive behaviour was giving the rest of us a bad name by association, not just with the police but with other packs as well, who would understandably presume we were all like him.

He grabs a chair from one of the other tables because all the seats around ours have been taken and sits near to me. I gag when I smell him. His body odour is off the scale tonight, probably because it's been quite a warm day today so the usual stench has multiplied ten times. Some of the other guys have noticed and are surreptitiously trying to cover their noses or look the other way but it's impossible to get away from the smell.

I'm trying to distract myself by thinking about Bella and whether I should just bite the bullet and ask her on a date, when one of the guys who was in the Coach and Horses starts relating the story about when 'this Mod girl' came into the pub on her own and thought she recognised me. I'm instantly drawn in to what's being said about Bella as he goes on to describe how she went bright red when she looked at me and I fronted her out. He finished off the tale by saying she was "definitely a fuck-able Mod with amazing eyes and gorgeous long hair," which I know is a compliment in a way and it makes the others laugh, but it makes me bristle with anger.

James jumps into the conversation then and says in his sneering voice, "Shame I wasn't there; I'd have followed her into the Ladies room and taken her up the arse before anyone had a chance to stop me."

My fists are clenching as he describes in detail what he'd do to her and how she'd be "screaming in pain and begging for mercy before he shoved his dick in her mouth to make her suck the crap off it", and that's it for me. An image of James forcing himself on Bella in such a revolting way sends me over the edge and I spring from my chair knocking it to the ground.

"You disgusting piece of shit," I yell then lunge towards him before he has a chance to react. I grab him by his filthy ponytail so I can wrench him off his chair and as he falls backwards onto the floor, I kick him hard in the ribs twice then jump away with my fists up.

"Outside, you wanker," I spit at him. "You fucking revolting excuse for a human being; I'm gonna smash your fucking face in."

All the other guys who are sitting near to James back away as he stands up and challenges me.

"You wanna fight me do ya, posh boy?" James growls as he pulls himself up to his full height and cracks his knuckles together.

"Oh yeah," I reply and I really mean it so my anger comes out in my voice. "You've no idea how much I want to knock your disgusting teeth through the back of your filthy skull. Get outside, NOW."

James starts walking backwards towards the door, his evil eyes fixed on my face all the time. I'm shaking I'm so wound-up and my blood is pounding in my ears, but I'm not scared of him as the adrenalin that's flooding my brain is spurring me on to take out my pent up anger, frustration and jealousy on this repulsive pervert. Then I spot he's sliding his hand inside his jacket and I realise immediately he's going to pull out his knife, so this is obviously not going to be a fair fight.

There's a flash of metal as the long blade springs from inside its bone handle, then a sharp intake of breath from Emmett and the others, as everyone in the Ace knows I don't carry any sort of weapon which could compete against that knife. James laughs menacingly and bares his filthy teeth like a rabid animal, but before I have a chance to react, Emmett springs up from his seat and tosses something invisible towards James, who then screams in pain and his hands fly up to cover his eyes. As he's still holding his open flick knife in his right hand, he accidentally slashes himself across the cheek and blood starts pouring from the wound.

"What the hell," I yell and turn to look at Emmett who's grinning from ear to ear and holding a now-empty salt pot in his hand.

"Oldest trick in the book, Eddie," Emmett says and chuckles. "Thought I'd even up your chances," he adds nonchalantly and returns to his seat where he's high-fived and patted on the back by the guys sitting near him.

"You fucking bastard," James spits at Emmett as he's rubbing his eyes which only makes his situation worse, then he turns in my general direction and advances towards me, even though it's obvious he can't see me clearly. I'm tempted to kick him hard in the balls as I have the advantage, but it wouldn't be 'cricket' to assault a blind man, even though he's still brandishing his knife which could do me some serious damage if he lunged at me.

As he staggers towards me, he crashes into chairs and tables in his futile effort to get to me. "I'll 'ave you for this, Eddie Masen, and you, Emmett McCarty. There's no point hiding from me either, 'cause I'll find you and you won't see me comin'. I'm gonna kill both of you, horribly and painfully, and I'm not giving up until you're both dead."

The Rockers who've stayed out the way leap up as he says this and as a group they advance towards him ready to tear him limb from limb, but Sam takes the lead and positions himself between me and James, even though James is still holding his knife.

"Get out of the Ace, James, and don't come back," he barks forcefully. "We've tolerated you long enough but you've crossed a line now and there's no returning as far as I'm concerned. You've made a threat to kill two members of the pack and it's obvious you're totally out of control, just like you were in Clacton."

James actually growls when Sam is speaking, but Sam isn't finished.

"You're not a true Rocker, James; you're just a thug and a hooligan who happens to ride a motorbike. You and those other nutters on Clacton beach are what's giving Rockers a bad name and these guys aren't prepared to be dragged down to your level and classed as troublemakers because of your fucked-up behaviour. This might be what _you_ want, but it's not what the Ace pack is about. Get the fuck out of here, James, and don't return, or we won't hesitate to shop you to the police for carrying an illegal knife _and_ for stomping on that guy's head on Clacton beach."

James' expression distorts evilly and his streaming eyes flash from face to face as if he's looking for support, but he doesn't find it from anyone, including the few Rockers who have always tolerated his presence. Even the Hells Angels are on their feet watching him and if he was able to see clearly through his salt-affected eyes, the look on everyone's face is a combination of disgust and loathing.

"I'll get my own back on you bastards, especially you Eddie Masen," he hisses. "You're a dead man walking now because this doesn't end here."

As he turns to leave, he picks up the end of an empty table and hurls it my direction then heads for the door.

"One of you get some water for his eyes," Sam orders. "And make sure he doesn't damage any of the bikes before he leaves," he adds as James slams the door shut behind him.

Four of our guys and a couple of the Hells Angels follow him outside and keep watch until he gets his sight back and is safe enough to be on the road. Eventually we hear the roar of his motorbike as he leaves the Ace for hopefully the last time and everyone cheers and I can finally relax.

I know the boys and Tanya will need some sort of explanation as to why I went for James in such an aggressive manner and they're all looking in my direction for some answers, so I speak up.

"I'm really sorry, guys, for starting this. You know I'm not normally a fighter, but I'm on a short fuse at the moment. My dad had a massive heart attack on Monday and I've hardly slept for the last few days. On top of that, I can't abide any sort of violence towards women and what he said disgusted me. James touched a nerve and….. I exploded, but thanks for your support and I'm glad the arsehole's gone. I don't think I could've tolerated the smell for much longer to be honest."

"You'd better watch your back, Eddie," Sam says as he sits down next to Tanya, who is now looking at him with shining eyes. Sam had been really brave and shown true leadership when he stood up to James while he was still holding his knife, so Tanya is definitely seeing Sam in a new light now. I knew then that if I ever stopped coming up here, there's no doubt Sam would take over my honorary title of King of the Ace and he would deserve it.

"I will watch my back, and my front and sides," I agree, trying to make a joke of it, but I've no doubt that given the opportunity, James will seek revenge one way or another. As the guys start talking among themselves again, I'm thankful then that no-one in the Ace knows who I really am or where I live and work. I trust these guys implicitly, but when my safety is in jeopardy I can't afford to take any chances.

The guys readily accept my explanation of why I exploded at James and everyone wishes my dad well. The mood in the Ace lifts from then on now James has gone and we have a great evening talking about bikes and racing. Emmett and some of the others are up for going to a track one day so I said I'd find out about it and get back to them. When it starts getting dark, Emmett asks whether I'm planning to stay over tonight but I decline just in case dad takes a turn for the worse but I'd be over on Sunday if everything was okay.

Jack turfs us out of the Cafe at about eleven-thirty and about twenty of us decide to disturb the neighbours for a laugh. We don't do this often, but we need to do something a bit rebellious to offset taking the righteous and sensible path with James. After a quick trip up the Norf towards Hanger Lane, we turn off at Iveagh Avenue and take the short cut to the A40 through the housing estate that surrounds the Guinness Brewery in Park Royal; probably waking up every resident within a half mile radius as we thunder past houses that are all in darkness. As we roar along Coronation Road, which fortunately doesn't have any houses either side, I imagine the angry phone calls to the police which will no doubt be made either tonight or tomorrow morning by irate residents; then the inevitable visit from the boys in blue who will be looking for another back-hander in return for allowing the Ace to stay open.

I get home at just after midnight. Jasper's scooter isn't in the stable when I put Sadie to bed so he's obviously out with the Mods in the East End. As that thought crosses my mind I wonder for the first time whether he knows Bella. It would be a massive coincidence if he did but there's no way I can ask him at the moment after everything I've said about not having anyone in my life. I could ask her of course, so I resolve to drop his name into a future conversation. There can't be that many 'Jaspers' in East London as it's an even posher name than mine.

After making sure Tara and Sadie are secure, I wander upstairs and pour myself a large whiskey. I silently toast to my dad's continued improvement and down a large mouthful, shuddering when the alcohol burns the back of my throat. I enjoy drinking whiskey but could easily give it up in a heartbeat if my life depended on it. Dad wasn't anywhere near being classed as an alcoholic; he just liked drinking whiskey, but he was never dependent on it. After downing another mouthful I resolve never to let alcohol become a serious problem like it has for Harry.

I appreciate that dad is going to have difficulty walking away from one of the major loves of his life and I initially feel sorry that mum will have to put up with his inevitable tantrums when he's denied his 'drams'. Then I chortle to myself as no-one does tantrums like my mother, so maybe this will be a bit of 'karma' for all of us, as dad, Rosie and I have been on the receiving end of plenty of her tantrums over the years, so she'll have a taste of what we've had to put with.

As the alcohol hits the spot, my mind inevitably wanders back to Bella. The possibility of her being in a romantic clinch with Jake right now makes me fume with jealousy. I can imagine him kissing her and fumbling with her clothes and trying to touch her in intimate places, so I invent a scenario where she tells him she's not ready for that sort of commitment and he backs off. Then I realise I'm kidding myself. He's no doubt a hot-blooded guy and she'll be bowled over by him I'm sure, but she doesn't strike me as the sort of girl who would give herself to the first guy who came knocking and that notion calms me somewhat.

I wonder whether she's ever considered that I might have a girlfriend, or fiancée, or even a wife in tow, and if so why I've been pursuing her. I resolve then to drop the fact that I'm single into another future conversation with her. If she tells me one day she's finished with Jake the Jerk, I could suggest we could go out for dinner one evening after work, and maybe explore some new secret parts of London which are too far for her to visit during her lunch break.

I'm tempted to have another whiskey but decide against it because of my new resolve not to get addicted, and go to bed instead. I presume Jasper will be back tonight so I don't deadlock the door and I'm in bed by one.

At around two o'clock I'm woken up by the sound of someone moving around downstairs. Because of the incident with the guy in the balaclava the other night, I shoot out of bed ready for a confrontation and look around for something heavy to lob at whoever has broken in. Then I hear cupboards being opened and closed and water running from a tap, which is not something a burglar would do. It's obvious to me then it's only Jasper in the kitchen. My mouth is dry so I pull on some underwear and wander downstairs to get a drink and find him in the dark, sitting on a stool by the breakfast bar with a glass of water and a half-eaten packet of biscuits in front of him. He's staring into space, almost like he hasn't heard me approaching, then he acknowledges me with a half-wave.

"You're late," I say, and I wonder in my depraved mind whether he's had a bit of action tonight.

"Yeah," he said. "Bit of a rotten evening to be honest."

"What the hell happened," I ask as I get my own glass of water then sit opposite him.

"Long story, but one of Alice's friends broke up with her boyfriend. He'd been two-timing her and been an arse, so it was his own fault. Anyway, I was taking Alice home and there'd been an accident. When we drove past the scene there was a scooter lying in the road that had been hit from behind by a car. We stopped to see who it was and it was his scooter."

"You mean the boyfriend's scooter. Was he badly hurt?"

"Looks like it. He was unconscious when they put him in the ambulance. He wasn't wearing a helmet and had smashed his head on the edge of the kerb and split it open. It looked really awful and Alice was in bits when she saw the state of him because he was covered in blood. Head wounds always bleed the worst and it looked like a horror film. I told the police who he was and where he'd been this evening and they said they'd send a car to his home to inform his parents."

"Bloody hell. That's a bit rough. Have you known him long?"

"Not really, only as long as I've known Eric and Paul. They've known Jake since school though."

"Jake!" I exclaim, and I can't help sounding surprised, then I try and cover up my slip. "That's an unusual name."

"His proper name's Jacob. I guess one or both of his parents might be Jewish. Anyway, after Jake was carted off in the ambulance, Alice insisted we go to Bella's house to tell her. That's her friend by the way."

I nearly choke when he says her name but I try to remain calm.

"I presume Bella's his girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend. How did she take it?"

"She was really upset and started blaming herself which is ridiculous."

"Absolutely. So how did you leave it?"

(I was trying to act nonchalant, but all this information was getting me excited).

"We stayed with Bella and her parents for about an hour until Bella calmed down. They don't have a phone so Bella's going to Alice's tomorrow and they'll try and find out what's happened to him. Her brother's a reporter for the local paper so he should be able to get to know what happened through his contacts with the police."

I was picking up more and more information about Bella and was interested to hear she had a brother who was a reporter. Maybe a talent for writing ran in the family which is why she wanted to write a book.

"What's Bella like, Jasper?"

"She's a really nice girl. Bright, sensible, loyal to Alice and very close to her parents. I know she's going to take this really badly even though it's not her fault. Why do you ask?"

"Just interested in what Alice's friends are like. East Enders are good people generally."

"Yeah, they are. Anyway, Edward, sorry I woke you. I'm going to bed. See you in the morning."

Jasper got up from the stool and put his glass in the sink and went upstairs, leaving me to my thoughts.

As a biker I genuinely felt sorry for Jake, but as a man all I could think about was that Bella doesn't have a boyfriend anymore, and that cheered me up no end.

Now what the hell do I do?

* * *

 **You ask her out, you dimwit! Jesus! This guy has made procrastination an art-form. (Why am I saying this - I know what he's going to do. Sorry readers!)**

 **James is going to be a big problem - he's a nasty piece of work and won't take kindly from being banned from the Ace and made to look foolish in front of the other guys because of Edward. He will come after him and it will be explosive when they next meet.**

 **So Jake has been dumped (hooray) and then been knocked off his scooter (boooo). He wasn't wearing a helmet of course so that's made his situation worse. Bella's going to take it hard of course.**

FYI

 **I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles** is a song from an American musical called The Passing Show of 1918. There are different accounts of how it became to be the West Ham anthem from the 1920's onwards and no-one knows which is the correct one. One interesting theory is that one of the players in the 20's looked like the angelic child in Millais' painting 'Bubbles'. It's a weird choice for a song, but West Ham supporters still sing it at matches. The game I refer to in the story actually took place and they did win 5-0!

A bit of my own history now. I mentioned before that I lived near the Ace Cafe when I was a kid. My dad worked at the **Guinness Brewery** and we lived on the housing estate that surrounded it. I remember lying in bed at night and often hearing the Rockers from the Ace roaring up Iveagh Avenue, then down Twyford Abbey Road (where I lived), then along Coronation Road to get to the Western Avenue A40, thus cutting out Hanger Lane and a whole chunk of the dual carriageway. I very rarely _saw_ them as a pack, but when my sister became a Mod, quite often loads of scooters were parked outside our house, and we would worry in case the Rockers spotted them and caused trouble. Nothing happened of course.

The English vernacular is full of **'cricket'** references. ' _Knocked for six_ ' (pleasantly or unpleasantly shocked) which is almost means same as _'bowled-over',_ another cricket one. _'Wouldn't be cricket'_ (unfair in an 'ungentlemanly' way) are three of them. A couple more are _'had a good innings'_ , which means lived or stayed a long time. _'Being stumped'_ which means having no idea how to solve a problem. There's a few more but that's enough to be getting on with. Cricket is an amazing game, but I'm not going to explain the rules - that would take weeks.

 **Next chapter you'll find out what's happened to Jake, Bella finds a really good subject for one of her articles and Emmett makes an interesting discovery!**

Joan xx


	21. Chapter 21

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 20**

 **Bella**

Mum is still up when Riley drops me home so we chat for a while about what happened at The Roxy. I tell her I've finished with Jake because I suspected he was two-timing me with someone else, but he'd given me the perfect excuse to have a clean break and not feel guilty. I didn't say anything about the car key incident as I guessed she'd be furious. Knowing her, she'd probably clip him around the ear if she ever saw him again, which would be unbelievably embarrassing for me.

She knew I'd been thinking of ending it anyway because of our talk last weekend so she knows I'm not upset at all and I assured her I'd carry on looking for my prince. I wasn't ready to tell her that I was pretty certain I'd already found my prince and he was working in a certain law firm in Fleet Street, but he was so out of my league I knew he would never invite me to jump onto his gilded lily pad; well at least not permanently.

Dad comes in from the pub then and I tell him about Jake as well. He admitted he liked Jake but he was pleased I wasn't seeing him anymore because he didn't like me being on his scooter, especially at night. I wonder then what would happen if I started dating Edward, as there's no way he could ever visit the house on his motorbike dressed in his leathers. Dad would take one look at him then lock me in my bedroom forever, like Rapunzel in her turret. I'd have to let my hair grow even longer and then Edward could rescue me and whisk me away on his white horse to his castle where we would be married and live happily ever after. Hmmm, maybe he should turn up in his leathers after all?

I'm in the bathroom cleaning my make-up off when there's a loud bang on the front door. My initial reaction is it could be a remorseful Jacob begging for forgiveness but it's probably just Mike forgetting his key again so I start to brush my teeth. It's already gone midnight by now so dad answers the door and calls up to me that it's Alice. I run downstairs in my tatty old dressing gown wondering what on earth she wants at this time of night and I'm embarrassed to see Jaz standing in the hall as well. When Alice looks up at me I know instantly something's wrong as her eyes are red and swollen and her normally pale face is even paler than usual.

"What's happened?" I ask and I can already feel my knees starting to buckle as it's obvious it's going to be something awful.

Jaz replies for her as Alice immediately starts sobbing into his chest.

"Jake's had an accident on his scooter, Bella. It looks like he was hit from behind as the back wheel and half the scooter was wedged under a car. He's been taken to hospital with a head injury and it looks really bad."

"Oh my God," I shriek as Alice comes over and flings her arms around me. "It's all my fault because he left early," I sob.

"It's not your fault," she says through her own tears. "No-one's going to think that."

"Yes they are," I wail. "He probably wasn't concentrating on the road because of what I said to him. What's his mother going to say to me on Monday? I shouldn't have been so horrible."

"You weren't horrible, Bella," Alice chokes as she gets hold of my shoulders and looks me straight in the eyes. "Don't forget he was the one who lied to you about last weekend, and he was the one two-timing with Jessica."

I knew she was right, but I still felt an overwhelming sense of guilt.

"I know that, but I shouldn't…" and then I realise my dad's standing there, so I don't mention I accused him of having a tiny dick in front of his mates and Jessica.

I can't stop crying because I'm imagining him lying in hospital somewhere, possibly at death's door. His poor parents are probably weeping by the bedside of their only child by now or in a waiting room being given bad news. I could feel myself shaking, probably due to shock, but also from the realisation that my earlier premonition that something awful was going to happen tonight had come true.

Mum disappeared into the kitchen then and I could hear her putting the kettle on, because a cup of tea would of course make everything right again, so we all shuffle into our tiny living room and I huddle with Alice on the sofa while dad starts ranting from his chair.

"Bloody scooters," he huffs. "Death traps, that's what they are. I don't want you going on one of those things _ever again_ , Bella. Do you hear me?"

I nod my head and start sobbing again. At this point Mike comes through the front door after his night out and asks what the hell's going on. Jaz introduces himself as Alice's boyfriend then pushes him into the kitchen and tells him what's happened.

After we've all had a cup of tea and I've calmed down, Alice and Jaz leave and I go up to my bedroom and start crying again. I feel totally cut off from being able to find out what's happened and whether Jake is alright. If we'd had a telephone I could have called the hospital, but instead I now have to wait until morning until I go to Alice's to get some news.

I eventually climb into bed and try to switch off as I'm emotionally exhausted, but it's impossible to get the image of Jake turning away from me in The Roxy after I'd verbally torn him to shreds. The look on his face was one of utter dejection, and I couldn't bear the thought of him being unhappy when he had the accident, especially if he died, which makes me start sobbing again, but I eventually fall asleep still crying into my pillow.

* * *

 **Saturday 11th April 1964**

 **Edward**

When I wake on Saturday morning my first thought is to try and find out what's happened to Jake, not the fact that there's a knife-wielding maniac called James after me, which means my priorities are a bit skewed. However, I don't want Jasper to be suspicious as to why I'm plugging him for information.

I presume he's seeing Alice sometime today, so annoyingly I may have to wait until tomorrow before I find out whether Jake's dead or alive. I feel slightly guilty thinking of Jake in the past tense, but whether he's still in the land of the living or not, he's now Bella's _ex_ -boyfriend, which pleases me no end. Hopefully I'll talk to Bella again soon and I'll pluck up the courage to ask her out on a date, and then I'll be able to announce to Jasper, "guess what!"

Jasper follows me downstairs and I insist on making him breakfast this morning as he's been cooking for me all week. Scrambled eggs are my speciality so I knock up a plateful for him with toast and coffee.

"Are you going to call Alice," I ask.

"Yeah," he responds nonchalantly. "She may have heard what's happened to Jake. I'll go over there this afternoon if she's not consoling Bella. I'm not interfering if the girls want to be on their own."

"Good idea," I say, and I'm relieved I may find out sooner rather than later whether he's survived.

I offer to wash up even though I've cooked so that Jasper can go upstairs and use the phone to call Alice because the suspense is killing me. When I hear him saying "Hello," I stop what I'm doing and creep to the bottom of the stairs so I can eavesdrop on the conversation. Unfortunately all I can hear is Jasper saying, "Yes, No, Really? Shit, Jesus! Okay, See you later, Love you (!), Bye," and then I dash back to the kitchen when I hear him put the phone down.

I'm desperate to know what's happened but Jasper annoyingly has a shower first then strolls downstairs in his dressing gown. I pour him some more coffee from the jug and nonchalantly ask him what the latest is.

"He's alive, unconscious, with a fractured skull, a dislocated but not broken collar bone and a broken wrist. The driver of the car has been arrested for drunk-driving. Apparently he was legless when the police turned up and couldn't walk in a straight line so he was booked on the spot. Alice's dad phoned Jake's parents this morning and they're shocked but okay; just grateful he's alive and not in any danger."

"That's a relief," I say. "Are you going over to Alice's later?"

"Yeah, I'll go in the afternoon. Bella's on her way over and Alice is taking her to the West End to buy a new coat or something like that. It'll help her take her mind off what's happened. Are you going to see your dad?"

"Probably," I reply. "I saw him yesterday but I could pop in for a while. I'll make my mind up later on."

Jasper goes back upstairs leaving me to mull over what he said. Jake had survived, which is good news for Bella as I wouldn't want her to have a guilty conscience if he'd died, however she may feel awful about what happened and go back to him, which would be a disaster for me.

I know I should really own up to Jasper that I know Bella, but for some reason I want to keep her to myself at the moment. Up until last night she had a boyfriend, so it would have been pointless me talking to him about her. Also, I told him there was no-one in my life at the moment, so I would feel silly back-tracking and telling him about our lunchtime liaisons. I know there'll be a right time to tell him and I'll just plead ignorance that the Bella he was talking about was a girl called Isabella who worked at the Express. I'll definitely drop Jasper's name into my next conversation with her and maybe that will be the trigger for me to say something.

I decide to see dad in hospital so call mum at The Savoy to tell her I'll go in at four o'clock when visiting time starts. If he's awake and able to talk without getting stressed, I may ask his advice about what to do about Giles Fotherington's threat to alter the laws which could adversely affect the dock workers' rights. Time is running short as the parliamentary session ends in June, and it's already the middle of April. With all the other work I have to do I don't really need this added complication.

* * *

 **Bella**

When I get up, I steal myself to look in the mirror as I know the face staring back at me is going to be a sight, and I'm not wrong in my assumptions. My reflection shows a pale faced, swollen-eyed, exhausted excuse for a girl, but it's all I deserve. Whatever Alice said to placate me last night, I still feel guilty about what happened to Jake, and I still don't know whether he's dead or alive. I've already decided to speak to dad today about getting a telephone installed and I'm going to offer to contribute towards the cost, because not being able to communicate with the outside world without having to go out to a telephone box, that nine times out of ten somebody has either thrown up or pissed in, is completely ridiculous in this day and age.

I clean myself up the best I can so I don't frighten the family then go downstairs to make myself breakfast. I soon realise that the house is unusually deserted for a Saturday morning which means Mum has probably gone out to the shops early and maybe she's dragged dad with her for the first time in years. I presume Mike is already at the park playing football, but wherever they all are I'm grateful for the peace and quiet. Maybe they're giving me a wide-berth because of what's happened? If that's so I appreciate being left alone to wallow in my guilt.

I set off for Alice's at about nine-thirty and get to her house half an hour later. As soon as I knock on the door her dad answers it and tells me that Jake has a fractured skull and other broken bones but his life isn't in any danger. I run up the stairs to Alice's room feeling mightily relieved but still traumatised.

When I see the state of Alice, it's obvious she hasn't had much sleep either as she's not her usual immaculate self. We both have another little cry then she insists we 'tart ourselves up' and hit the West End for some retail therapy. I know there's no point in arguing as Alice is on a mission to make me smile again, so we 'tart ourselves up' as she suggested and head out. Alice's dad offers to drive us all the way to the Marble Arch end of Oxford Street rather than get the bus, which is really nice of him, so he drops us off near Selfridges and then the fun begins; well fun for Alice I should say.

I'm dragged from shop to shop but all the summer-weight coats are what I can only describe as 'Mumsy'. In other words I can visualise women of my mother's age wearing them and I want something a bit different to what's on offer. Alice suggests getting the tube to the Kings Road in Chelsea, but the boutiques there are definitely too up-market and expensive for me, even with all this money in my purse. After starting from the Selfridges end of Oxford Street and criss-crossing the road until we get to the other end by Oxford Circus, we finally end up in Carnaby Street which is starting to get a reputation for being the 'in' place to shop, but the prices are still sky-high and I come away empty handed and fed-up.

I'm exhausted by now and suffering doubly because of lack of sleep. I've also worn totally the wrong shoes for shopping, consequently my feet are killing me and I'm actually hobbling. Alice pushes me into a coffee shop and orders two coffees and four raspberry donuts without even asking me what I want. I'm too tired to argue and kick my shoes off under the table which feels blissful for the first few seconds and then my feet start to throb even more.

"I give up," I say miserably as I'm stuffing my face with sticky sugary heaven which is just what I need.

"What about Petticoat Lane tomorrow morning?" Alice suggests with her mouth full.

"I can't face it," I reply as I attack the second donut. "I'm not a big fan of markets. You end up walking miles, looking through rails of trash in the hope of finding a gem that just might be lurking there, but nine times out of ten isn't."

"Okay," Alice replies sympathetically. "If we can't get anything today, we can go to Kensington next weekend and have a look there."

I nod my head in agreement while sipping my coffee, which is definitely on a par with the one I had with Edward and it revives me somewhat. After eating both donuts, the sugar gradually enters my blood stream and gives me a boost so I feel able to look in a few more stores. Alice glances at her watch and reminds me she has to be home by four as Jaz is coming over.

"You really like him, don't you?" I say.

Alice nods her head and looks misty-eyed when she replies.

"I think I love him, Bella. I can't imagine life without him now, and that's come as a bit of a shock as I never thought this would happen to me until I was about twenty-five. I think he loves me too."

"Have you told him?" I say trying to sound calm as this is mind-blowing stuff.

"Yes, I told him last night. He says he loves me too, and he said it again on the phone this morning. I want to believe him, but he's just too good to be true."

"Do you trust him?"

"Absolutely," she says wistfully while gazing up at the ceiling as though Jasper is hanging off the lampshade listening to her every word. "Even though I don't know much about _him_ to be honest. He doesn't speak about his family or what he does for a living, apart from I know he works with his dad and Eric and Paul and their dad. I know his dad's a builder, but that's all. He told me he'd lived abroad for a while but I don't know why, where, or for how long. All I know is that he's kind, he makes me laugh, he's generous, he's considerate and he's a great kisser, and he hasn't put any pressure on me for anything more than kissing and cuddling."

"He's one in a million," I say enviously. "Definitely a keeper."

Alice nods her head and mumbles, "I'm very lucky." Then she perks up. "Right, Miss Swan, I want to know who your secret guy is."

"What secret guy?" I reply in astonishment.

"Don't try and deny it. When we were discussing dumping Jake, you said you liked someone better, so who is it? Is it someone I know, or do you have a secret lover who creeps into your room in the middle of the night and makes mad, passionate love to you, then disappears before the sun appears?"

I know I've gone bright red so there's absolutely no point hiding it from Alice. She really should work for MI6 she's so good at wheedling information out of people.

"It's a guy who works in a building opposite the Express. We got talking after a really horrible man tipped my drink all over me in Lyons. He rescued me from being verbally abused and since then I've met him once at lunchtime and we went for a walk.

"Soooooooo….. details please."

"He's a lawyer, he's probably in his mid-twenties, he's very good looking and polite, and…he's totally out of my league."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he's a professional and he's public school and university educated. I'm sure he wouldn't consider a girl like me as a long-term proposition and he's already said he's not asking for a date; he just likes having company at lunchtime."

"Do you like him?"

"Yes, I _really_ like him, but I'm trying not to think of him romantically as I know I'll be disappointed in the long run. In fact I wish I'd never met him now as he's become the bar all other guys are never going top. Basically I'm stuffed."

Alice laughs at that comment and shakes her head.

"Bella, the world is changing. The class-system is being whittled away slowly and I'm sure if he's a decent guy, and he likes you, where you were born or who your parents are shouldn't matter to him. Anyway, I've got a feeling Jaz went to a private school. Once he said something like, "when my parents left me at school," which must mean he was a boarder. His voice is very cultured too, which I initially put down to not being 'East End', but there's more to it than that. He comes out with stuff I know nothing about, like books he's read and places he's been to. He's a walking encyclopaedia. I know I'll find out about his background eventually but I'm not pushing it. He'll tell me in his own time."

I nod my head in agreement but I'm determined not to get my hopes up where Edward is concerned, despite what Alice says. I know the world is changing, but Edward's world and mine are so far apart it would be the middle of the next century before it wouldn't matter in his world.

I finish up my coffee and lick all the remaining grains of sugar from around my mouth. "Come on then, let's do two more shops and then that's it," I say, trying to sound enthusiastic.

"Right," Alice agrees and we scuttle across the road to the Peter Robinson store where I find exactly what I was looking for, plus a blouse and skirt which will be ideal for work. In fact there was a whole section on one floor devoted to girls of my age and the choice was amazing. I could have bought loads of stuff if I'd had more money. Alice bought two dresses and a jacket and I had to stop her buying a really short skirt because I know her mum and dad would never let her go out in it. Her parents are cool, but not _that_ cool.

When we go to pay, we congratulate the shop assistants on the choice available, telling them we'd been everywhere else in Oxford Street with no luck. The girls behind the tills are in their early twenties and dressed really fashionably rather than in the usual boring nylon uniforms shop staff normally wear. They were really forthcoming with information about the clothes and told us that the Peter Robinson store in Sheffield was planning to devote the whole of one of their floors to our age group on a trial basis. It was scheduled to open in October and the section would be called Top Shop. If it proved financially successful, the girls had heard that the whole of the Oxford Street store's basement would be turned into a Top Shop next year and other stores would follow suit not long after.

With this exciting information in mind, I knew I had a basic idea for my column in the Advertiser next week. After what was an almost fruitless search for reasonably priced, modern clothes designed for girls of my age, only one major store had the foresight to cater for the economic group with the most disposable spending money, in other words young people with no commitments, like kids and mortgages. In this day and age this was bonkers, so next week's article in the Advertiser would be a killer.

Alice and I get different buses home and I have a chance to mull over what Alice said to me in the coffee shop about her relationship with Jaz. It was obvious they were head over heels for each other, and it was also obvious that Alice was already thinking about the 'forever' word. I only hoped Jaz didn't come from an upper class family like Edward, and Alice wasn't just a bit of temporary fun and she would be discarded when the time came for Jaz, or whatever his real name was, to find a suitable wife. He was keeping his background a mystery for a reason, and I only hope his motive was an honest one or Alice would end up heartbroken, which is what I'm suspecting will happen to me.

I agree with what Edward said, that the world is changing rapidly, but I still cannot believe someone like Edward would look at me as anything more than a friend, even though when he actually _looks_ at me, I can see something in his eyes which if he was a _normal_ bloke, (that is not someone like Edward), then I would think he fancied me.

Then I think about Jaz again. Maybe he's purposely trying to hide who he is, unlike Edward who has already admitted he's Eton educated so he's obviously from a wealthy family. Maybe Jaz has got _really_ rich parents and he's decided to keep his circumstances a secret so he knows a girl will love him for _who_ he is and not what he's worth. That seems like a plausible explanation to me, but it's interesting Alice hasn't wheedled this information from him yet, unless she's guessed this too and is keeping it to herself.

I get off at my stop and slowly hobble towards my house, wishing that girls weren't expected to wear proper shoes while they were out shopping. I dream of the day when it would be acceptable for girls to wear plimsolls or tennis shoes, or something similar, but until that glorious day, the female of the species had to carry on suffering with sore heels and toes just to be 'fashionable.'

The world's gone mad!

* * *

 **Edward**

Dad is a lot brighter this afternoon and two of the machines he was hooked up to yesterday have been removed, but he's still attached to a heart monitor which beeps away like an annoyingly loud bird plus another machine which I guess has something to do with his blood pressure. He's on a catheter for convenience and a drip for sustenance, but the nurse told me he'd managed to eat some lunch and if he progresses on the same trajectory he could be moved out of Intensive Care and onto the cardiac ward as early as tomorrow. After this piece of good news I feel as though I can chance getting some advice from him about Giles Fotherington and his plans.

After answering the usual "how do you feel" questions then hearing about how the nurses must have been trained by the Gestapo, dad unexpectedly launches into a lecture about my motorbikes. He's obviously been lying in bed considering his and my future, and having a brush with death has made him mull over the succession. My motorbike obsession is obviously a source of stress for him and he needs to say his piece.

"I know you hate everything about the aristocracy, Edward, but you're not to put your life at risk until you get your own son and heir. If anything happens to you, that insufferable fascist cousin of yours will get his hands on the title, and consequently our family name will be held in contempt for generations, like the Moseley's, and I'm not having that. When there's a little Edward bouncing on your knee, _then_ you can do what you want with your life. Until that time, no taking risks on that bloody motorbike of yours, do you hear me?"

"Yes dad," I reply. "I hear what you say and I've already curtailed my enthusiasm for speed you'll be pleased to know. I've done a lot of growing up in the last week so don't worry yourself about that."

"Good, that makes me feel a lot better. Now, we've got to talk about our incompetent Prime Minister, Alec Douglas-Home, and the band of charlatans running the country at the moment. Plans are definitely being made to sneak through changes to the employment laws before the end of parliament. The Tories have the majority in the Commons and the Lords, so the changes will go through on the nod if no-one gets wind of it beforehand. Somehow we've got to get the news out there so it gets adverse publicity before it happens, which will put the Tories in a bad light for the election if they have to admit it's true. If they deny it of course, this will scupper the bill before it reaches the floor of the House. But it can't come through me as I'm supposed to be neutral as far as party-politics is concerned."

"Is there anything I can do?" I ask. "I don't have any contacts in Parliament. If I was to start spreading gossip, it would come back to you through me."

"I don't know, son. Surely you must know someone who can help?"

I initially shake my head but then I think about the friend of mine who's a member of the Fabian Society, who may know some Labour Members of Parliament. If I contact him, he may be able to formulate a plan to stop these laws being passed."

"Leave it with me, dad. I've got an idea I'll think through and a person I'll arrange to see. I'll keep you informed what I'm up to, but I'll make sure our names are kept out of it. Don't worry yourself at the moment; I'll do the worrying for you."

Dad sighs when I say this and I can see he's getting sleepy. His eyes close and his breathing is steady so I presume he's dropped off. After about ten minutes where he doesn't say anything, I get up and start thinking about leaving but his eyes open and he sighs again.

"Sit down again, Edward. There's something else I need to talk to you about."

I sit down as directed and wait for him to speak.

"Although I hate to admit it, your grandpa was right. You should always marry for love and for no other reason. Whoever you pick for a wife is fine by me, but hurry please. I want to be a grandpa too and if I'm not going to be on this planet for much longer, I want to see you married with a family. I don't care who her father is or where she comes from, I just want you to be happy, and that goes for Rosalie as well."

I debate in my head whether to tell him I already have someone in mind but decide against it. I just say, "Thanks dad, but I don't know how mum would take it if I brought home someone like Eliza Doolittle."

He chuckles to himself at the thought then pats my hand in a comforting way.

"She'll be fine, Edward. Just choose carefully and make sure the girl loves you and you love her. Your mother may be one of the most annoying women on the planet, but I love her dearly and have no regrets on my choice of partner."

"I will dad. Thanks for the advice."

And then he fell asleep. I sat with him for a while longer and contemplated what he said. It was a revelation for me to know he would accept a girl like Bella as a daughter-in-law. Whether he felt the same when he wasn't at death's door that was another matter.

* * *

 **Sunday 12th April 1964**

 **Bella**

I work almost all day on my article for the Advertiser while my ideas are fresh in my mind. Doing this also helps to distract me from my guilt-trip over what's happened to Jake. I vent my wrath at high street chains and the famous department stores who seem to have totally disregarded a whole section of the community, leaving young people with no option but to buy 'trendy' clothes in expensive boutiques which for most is unaffordable. I claim there's a huge market out there for stores to design cheap fashions for teenagers and young adults, and whoever jumps on the bandwagon first will make a fortune. I show my first draft to Mike who thinks it's a great idea and said he would warn the girl who picked the graphics to find some suitable pictures to go on the page.

During the afternoon I wander up to the phone box and call Alice, who tells me Jake has needed to have an operation to relieve the swelling on his brain. His father told her that Jake's scooter days were over as they weren't allowing him to get another one when he recovers. I thought this was a bit drastic at first, but then I imagined if it were my son who had been in an accident I would probably react just the same as them.

The rest of Sunday I spend sorting my wardrobe out and getting my clothes ready for my first day as a secretary. I feel nervous about being in a new working environment, even though I'm confident I can handle the job. What's worrying me most though is the attitude of the other secretaries and whether they're aware I'm a Secondary Modern girl from the typing pool, and if so, whether they'll hold it against me. Whatever, it's something I've got to deal with and I'm going to make darned sure my 'limited education' isn't going to hold me back any longer.

I go to bed early not thinking about work, but looking forward to future lunchtimes and meeting Edward again. Maybe one day I'll be able to tell my snooty Grammar School colleagues that my boyfriend is a lawyer. Now that would be a day to look forward to.

* * *

 **Edward**

As dad is continuing to improve I set off on Sunday morning for Emmett's place with a clear conscience, but also with the promise to curtail my speed in the back of my mind. I'd given Rosie Carol's telephone number just in case anything happens, but the hospital are moving dad out of ICU today so the doctors must feel confident he isn't going to have a relapse.

I get to Emmett's just after eleven and he's in the garage as usual tinkering with Bonnie, but when I go in I notice he has a weird expression on his face when I say hello.

"What's up," I say and I'm wondering whether I've upset him or something.

"Just something Carol spotted in the Daily Fascist," Emmett responds with a sort of grin.

He stands up and wanders over to a pile of old newspapers and picks up a copy of the Daily Mail, then opens it to one of the inside pages and hands it to me. I quickly run my eyes across the headlines and spot what Emmett has obviously noticed, and immediately realise my secret life isn't a secret anymore.

 _MASTER OF THE ROLLS TAKEN ILL IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS_

There were about twenty lines of story about dad having a heart attack and being whisked off to St Thomas' Hospital where his life was hanging in the balance. But what had obviously piqued Emmett's interest was a candid photograph of 'Lady Masen-Cullen, Edward Cullen and Rosalie Cullen,' leaving the hospital the following morning after dad's operation.

"Bugger!" I exclaim and look up from the paper and see Emmett looking amused.

"So what do I call you now, Eddie Masen? Is it Sir, or Lord, or what?"

I shrug my shoulders and I'm trying to formulate an excuse when Emmett continues.

"You should know me well enough by now to guess that I couldn't give a shit about who your parents are. I'm American, and we don't have an aristocracy in our country; we got rid of all that crap in 1776 when we chucked you lot out. So being a Prince, Duke, Earl, or whatever your ridiculous title is, doesn't hold any water with me. As far as I'm concerned you're just my mate Eddie, end of story."

"Thanks," I reply and walk over to him and give him a manly hug and a slap on the back. He deserves an explanation so I make myself comfortable on his battered old sofa while he carries on tinkering with Bonnie.

"Okay, full story," I start. "As well as being the Master of the Rolls, my father is Viscount Moray, which is an hereditary title that will pass to me when he dies. My full name and title as his son is The Honourable Edward Anthony Masen-Cullen but I've never used the title since I left school. Viscounts are Peers, which means I'll be entitled to sit in the House of Lords when dad dies. My parents sent me to Eton and I chose to go to Cambridge to study law. I'm still close to my parents, but my father has cut me off financially because I wouldn't work for one of the elite law firms, but have chosen to work with Legal Aid cases and the Trades Unions, mainly on employment law. I'm now a very poorly paid junior lawyer in the City of London where I'm just _Mr_ Edward Cullen. Fortunately my grandpa left me some money which has enabled me to buy a small house in Kensington and be financially independent. Up until last week I lived alone, but my cousin Jasper has just moved in with me. End of story."

"Is that it?" Emmett asks.

"I think so….. What else do you want to know?"

Emmett thought about this for a while and for a moment I was worried our friendship was in the balance because I hadn't been entirely forthcoming about my life. I hadn't told him any lies, just skirted around the truth when he'd asked me questions about my family.

"I suppose I can understand why you wanted to keep your background a secret, even though I doubt whether any of the other guys at the Ace could give a shit to be honest. I suppose there's always a chance the newspapers could make a story out of you being a Rocker which could be seen as 'anti-establishment' and not really compatible with your chosen profession. What I _really_ want to know is does your family know you're a Rocker?"

I laugh before answering because of all the things he could ask, this was the least intrusive of all.

"They know I ride motorbikes, but I doubt they're aware I go around with a pack of Rockers. My cousin Jasper knows, and I've just found out he's Mod."

"What about your sister. Does she know?"

"No, but I've talked to her about you. I told her that I had an American friend who rides bikes and is a bit of a pacifist. She's into 'Banning the Bomb' and all that stuff like you."

Emmett's eyebrows shoot up. "Really?"

"Yes, really. But don't ask for an introduction, as your dick and my sister are never going to get within a hundred yards of one another."

Emmett threw his rag at me and breaks into howls of laughter. "Bastard!" he chokes out as he's wiping his eyes. "When I saw her picture in the paper I was hoping for an introduction, as I sure as hell would like to be your brother-in-law one day, but I guess that's not on the cards now."

"Absolutely not," I reply and start laughing as well. Then I thought about another possible consequence from my photograph being in the paper which brought me back to the real world with a jolt.

"James called me 'posh boy' in the Ace on Friday, Emmett, and that newspaper was Wednesday's edition. Do you think he knows who I am?"

"He could do," Emmett muses, "but he doesn't look the type to buy the Daily Fascist or even read a newspaper. If he does, there's nothing you can do about it; the cat's out of the bag now. Just watch your back, like Sam said."

Carol comes into the garage then with a tray of tea and biscuits. She walks towards me then bobs a curtesy.

"Your tea is served, my Lord, Would you like to take it in the drawing room or the conservatory?" she asks and then grins at me.

"Jesus, you're not going to let me live this down, are you," I proclaim.

"Definitely not, Sir Edward," Emmett replies and bows low.

"Now you know why I kept my aristocratic mouth shut," I laugh, but secretly I'm relieved I'd been 'outed', as Emmett and Carol have been the best friends anyone could have, and to be honest I couldn't think of anyone better to have as a brother-in-law than Emmett.

I just wish I'd never seen his dick!

* * *

 **Oh dear! Well if Emmett and Rosie do meet up (you know they're going to, don't you), Edward will have a dilemma on his hands. Does he warn Rosie or does he just tell Emmett to back-off? It will be a fun situation I assure you.**

 **Jake has survived his ordeal, but Bella is still feeling guilty even though she has no reason to be. She will be meeting Edward in the next chapter for another lunchtime walk, so that might focus her mind on whether she should concentrate on her growing relationship with Edward, or ease her conscience by being nice to Jake again. I can hear you all shouting "Nooooo!"**

FYI

 **Top Shop** was one of the first store-based lines that catered solely for young women; mass-producing cheap, modern clothes for girls from early teens to mid-twenties. Stores like Selfridges soon caught on, but didn't open their 'Miss Selfridge' range until 1966. Following the opening of Top Shop and Miss Selfridge, most of the other stores followed suit and smaller high-street shops like Lewis Separates became 'Chelsea Girl' and that chain eventually morphed into River Island. I worked in Chelsea Girl in 1969 to 1970 as a Saturday girl and had to wear Hot Pants as a uniform. I would be arrested for outraging public decency if I wore them now!

 **Carnaby Street** is now a pretty tacky tourist attraction, but back in the 60's it was a cool place to shop. It's actually a very tiny street compared to **Oxford Street,** which is still considered to be the premiere shopping street in London. Back in the day, if you hung about in Carnaby Street long enough, you'd probably spot someone famous diving in and out of the shops. There's lots of photos on the internet of Carnaby Street in its heyday and some of the fashions in the 60's were hilarious - Austin Powers got it absolutely right.

 **Sir Oswald Moseley** was a Baronet and an MP during the 30's and 40's. He came from an aristocratic family and before the 2nd World War he formed his own political party called the British Union of Fascists. Adolf Hitler actually attended his second wedding in Germany to one of the Mitford sisters. His followers were known as 'Blackshirts', which is what they wore as a uniform, and today this term is still used to describe someone who is ultra-right-wing. Moseley was interned during the war as he was a Nazi sympathiser, but eventually left England to live in France. During the 30's he led marches through areas of London with a high proportion of Jewish citizens which led to some pretty nasty fights, the most famous being the 'Battle of Cable Street'. You can understand why Carlisle doesn't want his title to be passed to someone like Quentin Cullen who would certain drag their name into disrepute.

 **The Daily Fascist** is a nickname for the Daily Mail, which is a right-wing British newspaper that caters mainly for Tory women (apologies if any of you guys read it - my mum (now departed) and quite a few of my friends read it avidly BTW). Back then it was anti-Labour, anti-immigration, anti-Unions, anti-anything that wasn't around when Queen Victoria was on the throne. It has improved over the years, but the nickname has stuck - well it has where I live anyway (Tory-Surrey).

 **Thanks for all your reviews, and memories, and comments. I really do look forward to reading them.**

Joan xx


	22. Chapter 22

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 21**

Monday 13th April, 1964

 **Bella**

My first Monday morning as a secretary dawns, and after getting a supportive hug from my proud mother, I catch a much earlier bus than usual and I'm in the Express foyer just after half past eight. The floor I'm working on is deserted when I arrive so I have to ask one of the early-morning cleaners where my office is. I'm at my desk well before eight forty-five and I'm nervously anticipating the arrival of my new boss, Mr Townshend, who I know nothing about. I just hope and pray he's not like those other two arseholes who interviewed me, otherwise I'll be out the door before I've typed a letter.

While I'm sitting at my desk waiting for what could end up being my escape route door to open, I stare at my Olympia electric typewriter in abject horror and try to work out how to turn it on, but I might as well be playing with the Telstar satellite for all the luck I'm having. After pressing the key that seems to be the most obvious 'on' switch, I'm still not having any luck, so I press numerous other keys but it's still as dead as a dodo. _Then_ I spot that it's not plugged into the socket on the wall. After smacking myself on the forehead for being such an idiot, I flick what I'd worked out initially was the 'on' switch and the typewriter springs into life. It immediately starts making all sorts of peculiar noises and I can't help flinging my hands up in the air in fright then pushing myself away from the desk before it starts attacking me.

I hear a low chuckle and turn around to see a man aged about thirty-five grinning at me from the doorway. He's very tall and well-built like a rugby player, with dark wavy hair and a tanned complexion. My first impression is that he seems nice and friendly so I'm hoping he's Mr Townshend. I stand up and say "Hello," but my voice comes out in a sort of high-pitched squeak which doesn't sound very professional.

"Isabella Swan, I presume," he says and walks towards me with his hand outstretched.

"Just Bella, please," I reply as I shake his hand. "I'm sorry about that; I've never used an electric typewriter before. I'm sure I'll get used to it quickly."

"I'm sure you will too, Bella. Anyway, don't panic; I'm in meetings most of the day today which will give you time to familiarise yourself with the typewriter and sort your desk out. I've asked one of the other secretaries to show you around our floor and introduce you to some of the people you'll be working with as well."

"Thank you, that's very kind," I reply gratefully.

"Is there anything you need to know before I go into the meeting?" he asks as he takes his top coat off and flings it on a chair in his office.

(I didn't have to think about this one).

"What time would you like me to take my lunch break, Mr Townshend?" (I go for the most important question first; I'm hoping this will tie in with Edward's break today).

"What time would you like to take it, Bella?"

"From half past twelve to a quarter past one, if that's okay."

"That's fine, but didn't Personnel tell you that secretaries get an hour for lunch?"

"No, they didn't, Sir."

"None of the 'Sir' malarkey, Bella. Mr Townshend is fine, or Mr T when we're on our own. Now, is there anything else?"

"Do you drink coffee or tea, and how do you like it, Mr Townshend."

"Excellent question, Bella. I drink coffee with one sugar and not too strong."

"Got it," I say and smile at him.

"I think you and I are going to get along just fine. I should be out of the meeting at about ten thirty so coffee would be nice then and make yourself a cup too."

"Yes, Mr Townshend," I reply.

After hanging his suit jacket up in his office and grabbing a notepad and pen, he leaves me on my own with the dreaded machine. I take a piece of paper out of the drawer and try to work out how to feed it into the typewriter but I don't have much luck. Eventually I get the roller to 'roll', but the paper is completely wonky so I have to pull it out and start again. On about my fifth attempt it goes in straight and I type the sentence that every typist does when they get a new machine.

' _The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog_.'

I look at my work proudly then try some other keys and within about ten minutes I think I've cracked it. At just after nine there's a knock on the door and a tall, blonde-haired girl with thick, black eye make-up, who looks a bit like Dusty Springfield, puts her head around it and smiles.

"Hi, I'm Kate. Mr T's asked me to show you around. Are you free now?"

"Yes," I reply eagerly and jump out my seat. "Thanks for doing this; I'm sure you must be very busy?"

"No, not really, Isabella. The editors are always in a meeting first thing Monday morning, which gives us secretaries a nice calm start to the week. I hear you've come from downstairs?"

"Yes," I reply. "I must admit I was surprised to get the chance. I'm a bit nervous to be honest."

"I'm sure you are and I might as well warn you, there were a few eyebrows raised on Thursday morning when the other secretaries heard you'd got the job. We've got a few snobs up here who think that only a certain type of person should be employed as a secretary. If they make any snide comments just ignore them and stay out of their way."

"Thanks for the advice, Kate. Mrs Black says I've got to try and be better than the Grammar School girls."

Kate laughs at that comment. "No, Isabella, don't try and be better immediately; that will just wind them up. Just aim to be 'as good as' to start with. Eventually they'll accept you, and _then_ you can out-do them."

"Agreed and thanks again, and please call me Bella," I reply.

Her advice seems sensible because I don't want to be seen as a smart-arse, but it's obvious from what she's saying that I'm going to be met with a certain degree of hostility and I guess to some of them I'll always be 'the girl from the typing pool.'

Kate shows me where the coffee and tea is kept and which cup is Mr Townshend's. She also shows me how to use the Xerox photocopier. I'd heard of these machines before but had never seen one in action and it fascinated me. "God, I've so much to learn," I say to myself as I watch Kate demonstrate how it works. After visiting the stock cupboard where all the paper and typewriter ribbons are kept, we walk around the floor and I notice how tidy it is. I can't help comparing it to the Advertiser, which is a bomb site compared to the Express.

When she introduces me to the other secretaries I can tell immediately which ones are hostile as they just gave me a cursory glance when I say hello and one of them totally ignores me. About three of the other girls are pleasant though and wish me good luck. They all agree I'm lucky to be assigned to 'Mr T', as he's really nice, which is a great relief. All of their bosses are in the same meeting as him so I don't get a chance to meet any of them, but after the comments two of them made at the interview about putting their paws on my arse, I'm actually quite glad about this.

After Kate has shown me around, she sits with me at my desk and gives me a quick lesson on the typewriter and the telephone system. Afterwards I feel much more confident and can't wait to get started. She leaves me then as she has to get on with her own work, so I carry on practicing on my typewriter and tidying up my desk and the rest of the office until just before ten-thirty when I go along to the kitchenette and make coffee for myself and Mr T.

On my way back with the cups, I hear voices in my office so it's obvious Mr T is talking to someone in there. When I walk through the door I immediately tense up, as next to him is a short, flabby-faced and even flabbier-stomached man with a ridiculous comb-over, wearing a scruffy nylon shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows and saggy trousers that seem to defy gravity. I recognise him immediately as one of the arseholes who interviewed me and I just know he's going to say something to me, but I'll have to be polite to him in front of Mr T as he has no idea what happened. As I place the cups down on the desk the arsehole stops talking and turns to look at me, but his eyes never reach my face. His gaze starts at my knees then works slowly upwards until it reaches my chest.

"Hello again, Is-a-bella," he says as his lips curl into a lascivious smirk.

I feel physically sick being in his presence but I'm determined not to show it, so I hold my head high and speak clearly.

"I'm sorry, but I cannot recall whether you told me your name at my interview; however it's nice to see you again."

He's still looking at my chest, but his voice drops an octave when he replies.

"My apologies then for not introducing myself, Isabella." Then his voice drops even lower. "The name is Arrow ... Alan Arrow."

Even though I'm furious because he's molesting me with his eyes, I try and keep a straight face when he says his name, as this lecherous creep has attempted, but spectacularly failed, to imitate Sean Connery's voice when he speaks the famous line, 'The name is Bond ... James Bond'.

I can tell Mr T has picked up on the fact that Arrow is blatantly staring at my chest and his voice has altered. An initial look of horror followed by obvious amusement at the ludicrous Bond impersonation crosses his face and I can tell he's trying not to laugh, which makes my own situation very difficult. I'm desperately trying not to break into howls of laughter myself which would be a disaster for me professionally, so I concentrate hard on recalling the day my cat died which is the saddest I've ever been in my entire life. Somehow I manage to hold it together even though I'm internally cracking up.

Mr T to his credit carries on the conversation as though nothing untoward has happened and manages to slowly manoeuvre Mr Arrow towards the door. When he finally gets rid of him he slams the door behind him and puts his back against it.

"I'm so sorry about that, Bella," he says and grins. "I was wondering why he was so keen to see me in my office after the meeting."

"It's okay," I reply as if it hasn't really bothered me. "I admit he did make me feel a bit uncomfortable just then."

Internally I'm raging at what's happened, but I don't want to cause a scene on my first day so I just play down the situation while thanking my lucky stars I don't have to work with Arrow, Alan Arrow, the pervert.

Mr T picks up his coffee and takes a sip. "Perfect," he sighs, so at least I've done something right. He asks me to follow him into his office so I grab my shorthand notebook and a pencil and take a seat ready to take dictation.

"You don't need your notebook, Bella," he says and then he gets up and closes the door. I suddenly feel anxious about being in a closed room with him but he quickly puts me at my ease.

"Bella, I don't normally talk about my male colleagues behind their backs, but I'm giving you a friendly piece of advice to be on your guard now you're working up here. You're like the shiny new toy in the toy box. Do you get what I mean by that? The men will be around you like bees around a honey pot and some of them might get stroppy if you don't play ball."

I know my mouth has dropped open as I can't believe what he's saying. I'm speechless, as it's obvious to me this sort of blatant sexist behaviour is tolerated and it's something I'll have to put up with if I want to work here. Mr T can tell I'm shocked so he gives me some more advice.

"I don't know your circumstances, Bella, but if I were you I'd let everybody know that you've got a steady boyfriend, even if you haven't. If any of these men proposition you, just tell them you're very flattered by their attention but you're madly in love with someone at the moment and wouldn't dream of doing anything to risk your relationship. You're very young to have to deal with this sort of behaviour, and I doubt whether you've the experience to know how to handle it, but unfortunately this is what goes on in offices nowadays, not just at the Express. It's always randy middle-aged men having a mid-life crisis who cause the problems, but it's the girls who get the rough end of it and end up either walking out or getting the sack if they complain."

"Thanks for the warning," I reply calmly, even though Mr T's words have shaken me to the core. "I'll take your advice but hopefully I won't need it."

"Do you have a boyfriend at the moment?" Mr T asks. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he adds quickly, almost like he's trying to retract asking a personal question.

I think about Edward as he's definitely a 'boy', and a 'friend', so I confidently reply.

"Yes, I am seeing someone at the moment. But its early days in our relationship so I'm not thinking about wedding dresses just yet."

Mr T laughs at that comment and I feel slightly better about the situation after the initial shock. I'm glad he's warned me though so I can prepare to defend myself if I'm cornered.

"Good," he replies, "I don't want to lose another secretary for a while. But Bella, I'm serious. If anyone says or does anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, you must tell me immediately. Do you understand?"

"Yes of course, Mr Townshend," I reply gratefully.

"Right!" he exclaims as he slaps his hands on his desk. "Let's see if you've mastered that devilish typing contraption out there. Here are my notes from this morning's meeting. Can you knock them into some sort of shape for me? I like to keep a written record of what's said and my handwriting is pretty lousy. If you can't read a word, just come in and ask. I'll give you some dictation after lunch but don't panic; I'm not a fast talker."

I pick up the notes and return to my typewriter. This type of work is totally new to me and it just feels wonderful to be able to use my brain for a change. I set to on the notes and his handwriting is atrocious, but I can make out the gist of what was being discussed. By the time I'm ready to go to lunch I've created a decent report of the meeting. I leave it on his desk then grab my new coat that I'm really pleased with and head for the door.

As I walk down the stairs, I can just see in to the typing pool through the frosted glass but Mrs Black isn't at her desk. I was contemplating whether to try and speak to her before the girls came back from lunch to ask how Jake is, but she's obviously taken the day off which isn't surprising. I guess she must be an emotional wreck by now. I carry on to the foyer in hopeful anticipation that I'll see either a book or Edward at his window so I excitedly push open the heavy glass doors and step out into the daylight.

The window has neither Edward nor a book visible and I feel disappointed for a second, but when my eyes drop towards the pavement and his office door, Edward is standing just to one side of it, leaning against the wall with his hands in his trouser pockets. His charcoal grey suit jacket is un-buttoned showing off a brilliant-white shirt with a silvery-grey tie that's slightly loose at the neck and blowing in the breeze. His hair isn't as neat and tidy as it usually is as a few strands are flopping over his forehead, which makes him look so flipping sexy I'm surprised he hasn't stopped the traffic.

When he sees I've spotted him his face breaks into a broad smile. He pulls himself away from the wall and nods his head in the direction of our corner so I bob my head to let him know I've understood his intentions. I carefully walk down the steps then casually stroll across the road and follow him at a normal pace, even though I'm tempted to sprint the hundred yards or so that separates us faster than Jesse Owens.

As I turn the corner he's standing in front of me and I have to take control of myself. I desperately want to jump him and press my lips to his gorgeous, pouting mouth and push my fingers into his glorious hair. Instead I squeak, "Hello Edward," and give him the most radiant smile I have in my arsenal.

Edward grins back, then half-turns away from me and looks along the road.

"Walk with me, Bella," he says and beckons me to follow him.

It's at this exact moment I completely and utterly realise that I'm madly in love with this man, so if any middle-aged randy gits like Arrow have the nerve to proposition me in the future, I can confidently declare to said 'randy git' that I have a wonderful 'boy-friend' _and_ on top of being the sexiest man who has ever walked on the face of the earth, he's an Eton educated / Cambridge degree-d effing lawyer.

Nah nah nah!

* * *

 **Edward**

Unlike the vast majority of Mondays, I'm keen to get to work this morning because I'm determined to see Bella sometime, even if I have to stand outside my building in the pouring rain all sodding day. I'm definitely suffering from Bella withdrawal symptoms and I need a fix.

She must have caught an earlier bus as I miss her arriving in the morning. I guess she'll have got in early as it's her first day, so I'm not unduly worried that she's taken a day off. By the time lunchtime comes, I'm praying she'll be let out between twelve-thirty and one so I run downstairs at twenty-five past to get in position.

Thanking God or whoever controls the weather up there as the sun is now shining brightly and the air is pleasantly warm, I station myself outside my door determined not to move until she appears. Luckily I don't have to wait more than five minutes as she walks through the doors onto the top step at the usual time and her eyes immediately snap up towards my window, which pleases me no end.

When she spots me, I nod towards the corner and start walking. I can feel her behind me, like a source of radiant heat that's becoming more intense with every step I take. It's as though her eyes are red hot pokers burning holes in my back, but I stay calm as I walk the hundred or so yards to our meeting spot.

Even though I'm sorely tempted, I resist looking over my shoulder like Orpheus did when he blew his chances with Eurydice. My own Greek Goddess is looking lovely today and she's wearing her new coat, which I'll make sure I compliment because girls like that sort of thing. It's French Navy with a white trim on the collar, pockets and cuffs, and it really suits her as it fits her slim frame beautifully.

When she turns the corner and smiles at me, my heart feels like it's going to burst. I want to press my lips to hers, but now isn't the time or the place. Instead I invite her to walk with me and she sidles up beside me so she's almost touching my arm. I shove my hands in my pockets again which helps me stay in control and stops me launching myself at her.

"Nice coat," I say. "The colour suits you."

"Thanks," she replies and blushes sweetly. "I bought it on Saturday in Oxford Street. Took me ages to find anything decent."

"Did you go on your own?" I ask, knowing damn well she didn't.

"No, I went with my friend, Alice. She's really clever at finding nice things. I always take her shopping with me."

"Alice," I muse conspiratorially. "My cousin Jasper goes out with a girl called Alice. It's an unusual name nowadays."

I was hoping she'd pick up on me dropping Jasper's name into the conversation, but she didn't react at all which surprises me. I'm sure the East End isn't crawling with 'Jaspers'. He's the only one I've ever heard of in my whole life.

"Anyway, how's the new job. What's your boss like?"

"He's very nice and quite laid-back. He's already warned me about some of the men on my floor, but I'd already worked out from what was said at my interview that sexist innuendos are tolerated."

My cave-man instinct kicks in and I want to go over there and find out who she's talking about and club the living daylights out of whoever spoke disrespectfully to her. I know this sort of thing goes on in offices, but if Bella is taken advantage of because of her youth, then I wouldn't be able to stop myself from defending her.

"What happened at your interview," I ask calmly.

"The two male editors who interviewed me said that they wanted to put their paws on my arse. I was going out the door when they said it, but I'm sure they meant for me to hear it."

I stop walking and turn towards her and I can't prevent myself from putting my hand on her arm hoping she won't notice that it's shaking because I'm raging.

"Promise me you won't put up with that sort of thing, Bella. If it happens again tell your boss straight away, and make sure he records you've reported their behaviour to him. Promise me you'll do that."

"I promise, Edward. He's already told me to tell him if anything happens like that. Anyway, if I am propositioned, I'm just going to tell them I've got a boyfriend and I'm not going to jeopardise my relationship, but thanks for the advice."

"Good idea. I'm sure you'll be fine. Are you still seeing … the young man who picked you up on his scooter the other day." (I nearly said Jake the Jerk, but stop myself in time).

"Yes and no," she replies, and I'm stunned because I was expecting just a 'no', but she continues.

"I broke up with him on Friday night, but he had a really bad accident on his scooter on the way home. He was really cut up that we'd finished and I feel a bit guilty, so I'm debating whether to help him get through his recovery. His mum works at the Express so I'm going to talk to her first and see what state he's in. I want him to get better, and I hate the idea that he's unhappy as well as being badly injured. I can't just abandon him."

I could tell she was genuinely upset about Jake's situation and my feelings for her tripled then because this was evidence of her empathy towards others, but this is not what I wanted to hear.

"You've got a really kind heart, Bella, but don't you think this would get his hopes up just to have them dashed again. Sometimes it's better to be cruel to be kind."

I'm trying to sound sympathetic but I'm being totally selfish here. There's no way I want her to go back to him but I don't want her to think I haven't got any empathy either.

"I suppose so when you look at it that way. I'm just so confused at the moment. He might not want to see me of course, which might solve the problem. Anyway enough of me, how's your dad. Is he getting better?"

"Yes, he's out of Intensive Care now and is making really good progress, but he's still being closely monitored in hospital as he's not completely out of the woods yet. He'll be there for quite a while."

"That must be a worry for you, Edward."

"You've no idea what it's been like … but it's made me reflect about life in general lately. I've done a lot of growing up in the past week."

Bella laughs her tinkley laugh and gives me one of her lovely smiles.

"Growing up's a bit shit, isn't it?" she says and pulls a face. "I wouldn't mind skipping the next five years or so."

"How old would you be then?" I ask and then I grin. "Sorry, just broke the first rule…..don't ask a lady her age."

Bella giggles. "Thanks for referring to me as a 'lady' even though I'm not twenty-one yet. I'm nineteen in September so old enough to drink but not old enough to vote. How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-five next month. I went to University when I was eighteen until I was twenty-one then did my Articles in a City law firm, then got the job with Jenks. I haven't really stopped to breathe since leaving University and I'm beginning to think I'm missing out on life."

"In what way?" she asks.

"I haven't really done anything apart from study at school and university and then I was straight into work. I should've seen a bit of the world first; had some experiences, like my cousin Jasper. I just feel I've missed out on being young and irresponsible for a while."

Bella frowns then looks at me quizzically and I can tell she's thinking how to respond to my comment.

"You do realise that the vast majority of young people don't have any choice at all, Edward? They leave school and go straight into work and stay there for the next fifty years. They don't have the option of travelling and being irresponsible because they can't afford to. I'd love to see other countries, but I doubt whether I'll ever get further than a day-trip to France on the cross-channel ferry. I don't even have a passport."

"So you've never been on a plane?" I ask without thinking.

"No, but I'd be terrified even if I could afford it. They're too dangerous anyway, so I'd have to be tied up or drugged before I got in one of those death-traps."

I chuckle at that comment, but to be fair there had been some terrible accidents recently so I could see her point, and I would be a liar if I didn't admit to confessing my sins and saying some prayers each time I took off from an airport.

I stop walking because we've reached my intended destination which I hope will be a surprise for Bella. Because my father is still technically a member of the Inner Temple even though he's a judge, I'm allowed limited access to the building that houses their extensive library which then leads onto the Inner Temple gardens.

"Come on," I say when she looks up in awe at the building.

"Am I allowed in?" she asks nervously.

"If you're with me, yes," I reply proudly.

I acknowledge the familiar desk clerk after I've led her through the heavy oak doors, then we walk quietly through oak panelled rooms filled from floor to ceiling with books. I can hear Bella muttering "Oh My God" behind me and I'm thrilled because I've definitely impressed her. I carry on leading her through the silent, lavender-scented library until we reach a set of tall glazed doors. As I open one of them for her, Bella gasps in delight. Laid out in front of us is a magnificent green space that drops in a gentle slope all the way down to the river. The ancient garden is traditionally landscaped with colourful flower beds and small but very well-proportioned trees, and surrounded on three sides by old, established stone buildings dating from many centuries ago. Several oak benches are dotted along the paths, under the trees and around the edges of the lawns, so I guide her over to one of them and sit down. But she remains standing and turns around and around several times taking it all in.

"Edward, this place is amazing. It's like an oasis in the middle of the City. How come I didn't know it was here?"

I'm bursting with pride that I've surprised her and when she sits down at last, I tell her that the general public have limited access to the gardens but that fact isn't well-publicised. The Inner Temple doesn't want hordes of tourists tramping through the garden and disturbing their peace so only people in the know visit and they try to keep it that way.

Bella takes out a small notebook from her bag and starts scribbling some words down. I peer over her shoulder and see she's writing about her first impression of the garden and what she can hear and see. Rather than writing about the types of flowers in the beds and the different varieties of trees, she comments on the silence surrounding us and the stillness of the air and the feeling that she's in a magical secret garden cut off from the rest of the world. I'm aware that I'm witnessing yet another part of this girl's complicated make-up, and everything I'm learning about her makes me adore her even more.

After she's finished writing, she offers me half her sandwich again but I decline as I don't have anything to offer her in return this time and I don't want her to go hungry this afternoon. I sit in silence as she eats her lunch and contemplate that I'd just admitted to myself that I'm probably falling in love with her. I think I've known this for a while but have been trying to talk myself out of it. But is what I'm feeling for her 'true love', in other words a love which will last a lifetime, or is it's just the first intense feeling that leaves you breathless but eventually wanes as you discover more about the person you're infatuated with?

I know I'm in a dilemma. I could ask her out on a date now and take a chance we'd be compatible and hopefully she would eventually fall in love with me, or, I could continue the friendship as it is and learn more about her before taking the next step. At least then she wouldn't be disappointed or feel rejected if what I was feeling right now wasn't true love or I decided we weren't compatible, or I wasn't confident that my feelings were being reciprocated, even though this seemed unlikely at the moment as what I could read from how she looked at me spoke volumes.

I would guess she's more than likely sexually ignorant and I would have to tread very carefully with that side of things, as a full-on relationship wouldn't be appropriate with someone so young, and definitely not until she trusted me implicitly. In other words I'd have to convince her that I wouldn't abandon her if anything went wrong. Trust would have to be earned and that would most likely take time.

As I watch her munching her sandwich, I can't help thinking about James and what he boasted he'd have done to her if he'd been in the Coach and Horses, and my heart starts to race as I imagine her being violated in that way. Because I'm sure Bella is sexually naive and inexperienced, she more than likely doesn't have a clue about how depraved some men's thoughts can be and I would do anything to protect her innocence. I want her to be my girlfriend, but if James is serious about his threat that he's going to kill me, and he found out where I lived and attacked me, and then grabbed her, it would be unforgiveable of me to risk exposing her that kind of danger.

I decide to hold fire for the moment and not just because of James. The uncertainty regarding my father's illness is still hanging over me, so it would be stupid of me to start a relationship if I couldn't guarantee being able to give myself a hundred percent to it, especially if I suddenly had to take over the responsibility for my family if dad died. Bella would still be around next week, or next month, and hopefully by then I would have a clearer idea of what path my immediate future was going to take. Also by then, the James situation should be resolved one way or another and then I could give her my full attention.

I'm concerned we have to leave fairly quickly because of Bella's time-restraints, but when I suggest heading back she tells me she now has an hour for lunch so I relax again. The sun is high in the sky and is warm for this time of year, so I loosen my tie a bit more and soak up the rays.

Even though my dad is still seriously ill _and_ I might be out of a job soon _and_ I've got an enormous pile of work waiting for me when I get back to my desk, at this moment in time I feel totally at ease. I'm in a sunny oasis with Bella, and the only way my situation could improve right now is if Bella could snuggle up to me and put her head on my shoulder, then I would put my arm around her and kiss her on her forehead. Maybe next time I bring her here we'll be at the stage in our relationship where she would be comfortable with this.

Bella finishes her sandwich and puts the wrappings back in her bag then gets out a small vanity mirror to check her teeth which makes me chuckle. Bella nudges me in the ribs for laughing then brushes a few crumbs off her new coat. Out of the blue she asks me a question.

"I don't know your other name. Mine's Swan. What's yours?"

I'm not going to lie to her, but I don't expect her to pick up my connection to the Master of the Rolls."

"It's Cullen. My full name is Edward Anthony Cullen. Have you got a middle name?"

"Yep, it's Marie, which is another family name, like Isabella. My mum's Catholic and my dad's originally Church of England but he's a devout atheist now. Thinks it's a load of tosh. Do you have a religion?"

I shake my head. "I was christened Church of Scotland, but I never voluntarily attend church apart from weddings and funerals. I'm agnostic; in other words I'm not completely convinced but too scared about the hereafter to say I don't believe."

"How did you feel when your dad had a heart attack? Did you ask for God's help?"

Bella's question takes me totally by surprise because I had prayed to God that he'd recover. It was a natural reaction to the situation, but at the time I would have accepted help from the tooth fairy if it had been on offer.

"Yes, I did, but it was in desperation rather than true faith. It's what you do without thinking when life takes an unexpected turn for the worse."

Bella nods her head as though she understands.

"I felt the same after Jake's accident; that's my ex-boyfriend's name by the way. But I'll admit it was for selfish reasons as I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself if he'd died, even though I know for definite now that the accident was nothing to do with him being distracted. He was hit by a drunk driver."

"Ah right," I say, even though I know all this. "Just to make you feel better, I was thinking about myself when dad had his heart attack. It would have had a detrimental effect on my life if he hadn't survived."

"How so," she asks, and then I realise I've dug myself into a hole.

"Err, well, just being responsible for my mum and sister I suppose. There aren't many men in my family so I'd have to be the man of the house and not do anything irresponsible anymore."

Bella laughs at that. "Like what? You've just said you regretted not being irresponsible. I can't imagine you doing _anything_ irresponsible. I mean, what do you get up to at the weekends?"

And that was it. Either I brush over the comment, or I'd have to admit I was the sneering rocker that faced up to her in the Coach and Horses and threatened Jake while she was on the back of his scooter. I'm not ready to own up to my immature behaviour, so I laugh as well.

"Wouldn't you like to know," I reply evasively and go to stand up.

"Yes, I would," she replies and I hear a hint of mischief in her voice. "But only when you're ready to tell me. Anyway, time to get back."

I sigh when I get to my feet. The magic moment has passed and we have to walk back to Fleet Street and reality. I've revealed a lot about myself to her, but not enough for her to be suspicious about who or what I am. I'm fifty-fifty whether she knows I'm the Rocker, but I'll wait a bit longer before owning up to her about my alter-ego. She's still a Mod, but somehow I don't think me being a Rocker would matter much to her.

After an almost silent walk back, where only the weather and how filthy and smelly the Thames is in the summer were discussed, we part company in the same place as before, with me hanging back until she's crossed the street. As I turn the corner, I see her giving me a little wave before she disappears through the doors and I can't help kicking myself for not ignoring all the shit that's going on in my life and taking the plunge.

"You stupid, stupid idiot," I say to the lily-livered, procrastinating half-wit who's staring at the Express building like a gormless kid gazing in a toy shop window. "Why the hell didn't you ask her out you moron? Sod dad. Sod James. What on earth's the matter with you?"

I knew I'd missed a golden opportunity to ask her for a date, even though I'd talked myself out of it while I was sitting on the bench, but there's always tomorrow I muse as I wander back to my office.

In the meantime, how the hell am I going to get any work done this afternoon?

* * *

 **I know you're all saying "stupid idiot" as well, but I think Edward is right. His dad is still not completely out of danger and now he has the added complication of James coming after him. He needs to get his life sorted before he starts a relationship. He'll want to give her his full attention when he steps over the line, and it's not as if he doesn't see her every day. I know you all want him to say "to hell with it" and grab hold of her and give her a smacking great kiss, but you never know, that might happen sooner rather than later - just sayin'!**

 **Bella of course has only ever heard Alice refer to Jasper as 'Jaz', which is why she hasn't picked up on Edward's hint.**

 **Bella will have to watch herself with sleaze-balls like 'Arrow, Alan Arrow' around. What a jerk. We've all met guys (and women) like that who think they're God's-gift. Yikes.**

FYI

The **Inner Temple** gets its name from the Knights Templar who leased the land where the ancient Law Courts stood, (which is where the Inns are located today, until the Knights were disbanded in 1312 that is). The Inner Temple is one of the four 'Inns of Court'. (Inner, Middle, Lincoln's Inn and Grays Inn). To be 'called to the Bar', in other words train to become a Barrister, you first of all have to apply to be a member of one of the Inns before you start training.

There's some amazing history surrounding the 'Temple' buildings. In 1381 they were sacked by rebels led by a man named Wat Tyler during the Peasants Revolt, when many of the original buildings were pulled down and records were destroyed. One of the rebels, John Stow, wrote the following after breaking into Fleet Prison (originally on or near Fleet Street) to free some of the rebels, which I thought you might be interested in reading as it's written in Old English. He mentions the Savoy, which is now the site of the famous Savoy Hotel where Esme and Rosie stayed after Carlisle's heart attack:

 _We went to the Temple to destroy it, and plucked down the houses, tooke off the tyles of the other buildings, left; went to the churche, tooke out all the bookes and remembrances that were in the hatches of the prentices (students) of the law, carried them into the high street, and there burnt them. This house they spoyled for wrathe they bare to the prior of St. John's, unto whom it belonged, and, after a number of them had sacked this Temple, what with labour and what with wine being overcome, (getting drunk after doing the 'sacking') they lay down under the walls and housing, and were slain like swyne, one of them killing another for old grudge and hatred, and others also made quick dispatch of them. A number of them that burnt the Temple went from thence to the Savoy, destroying in their way all the houses that belonged to the Hospital of St. John._

London's history is awesome!

 **Dusty Springfield** was an amazing singer from the 1960's. She had a string of hits and was very popular on both sides of the Atlantic. She also had a signature 'look'. A beehive bleached-blonde hair-do and black eye make-up with long fake eyelashes. IMO she probably had the best natural voice of all the famous British girl singers of the time.

 **Xerox photocopiers** were definitely around in the 60's (I had to double-check). They were patented in the late 30's, but really didn't come into their own until the 50's when new technology made them cheaper to run and more efficient. The ones back then were massive and used to break down a lot but it was still much quicker than using those awful Gestetner type machines.

 **Jesse Owens** was the Carl Lewis or Usain Bolt of the time. He won four gold medals in 45 minutes during the Berlin Olympics in 1936, much to the annoyance of Hitler who wanted his Ayrian team to win everything. Contrary to what is believed, Hitler did shake his hand during a private meeting (there are photographs). Unfortunately however, Jesse was not congratulated at all by President Roosevelt on his return.

 **Air Travel** was much more risky then than now, with passenger airlines crashing on a regular basis. In 1963/64 there were several major crashes, so Bella had every right to have that view. I remember being terrified on my first flight in 1966. I still say the Hail Mary as I take off, and I'm not even Catholic!

Joan xx


	23. Chapter 23

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 22**

 **Bella**

I skip up the stairs to my office with about five minutes to spare feeling absolutely elated after my lunchtime 'date' with Edward. I'm starting to really believe he might be considering asking me out on a proper date soon, and even though I'm sure any relationship I have with him is going to be short-term, I'm going to live for the moment and enjoy every second of it. Our chat has given my morale a real boost, and after what Edward said to me about not putting up with any shit from any of the men here I'm feeling really feisty, so woe-betide anyone who says anything to me or tries to proposition me while I'm in this mood.

I remember Mr T saying he was going to give me some dictation this afternoon so I get my notebook and pencil ready for when he gets back from lunch. He's left me some photocopying to do, so I pick up the small bundle of papers and head off to the room where the photocopier is housed. Kate has shown me how to use it and it seems pretty straight forward to me, so I approach the massive machine feeling quite confident.

I put the first document in the feeder and press the 'go' button and the pages start to disappear one by one. As I'm watching the copies magically appearing at the other end, I re-live every glorious minute of my lunch break by going over everything Edward said to me. I smile when I recall asking him what he did at the weekend, knowing damn well what he did get up to of course, but Edward is obviously keeping his Rocker secret to himself for the moment, probably due to embarrassment because he sneered at me in the pub.

The copying is almost finished when I feel the air change in the room and hear the door snap shut behind me. I turn my head expecting to see that the door has closed on its own, but I can't help cringing when I realise who has silently crept into the room and is now in the enclosed space with me.

The look on this man's face, which I can only describe as repulsive and sickening, makes me shiver. Mr T's and Edwards words come back to me in an instant and I know I have to follow their advice, so I'm determined not to show this creep that his presence is bothering me. I decide to carry on as though it is quite okay to be in a locked room with a sexual predator and front him out.

"Good afternoon, Mr Arrow," I say cheerfully. "Have you come in to get some copying done? You don't seem to be carrying any documents with you."

I'm determined to remain calm despite my urge to scream and then run because he's staring at my chest again. Just being within a few feet of his sweaty body is making me feel dirty as I can imagine what's going through his perverted mind.

Rather than responding to my question straight away, he laughs evilly and advances two steps towards me so we're almost touching. His round, flabby body smells of body odour, his breath of stale cigarettes and his forehead is damp with perspiration. I hope this is only because the air in here is warm and not because he's sexually excited. He's still staring at my chest and he actually _licks his lips_ which makes me want to vomit.

"Is-a-bella," he groans. "I need to make you aware that it was _me_ who swung the interview in your favour, so I expect you to be very nice to me while you're working your _trial period._ You do get where I'm coming from, don't you?"

 _"Stay calm, Bella, stay calm,"_ I say to myself, even though I want to yell for help at the top of my voice. I continue to play totally innocent to what he's suggesting and my reply is in a firm, clear voice, as I want to make damned sure he realises that Isabella Swan is not the vulnerable girl he thinks she is.

"No, not really, Mr Arrow. I can only say 'thank you' so many times. I can't imagine how else I could show my gratitude."

"Oh I think you can, my dear," he replies and moves even closer towards me. "There are a lot of things a girl can do to please a man, Isabella."

"I'm sure there are, Mr Arrow," I reply and smile sweetly, "but I don't think Mrs Arrow would be too pleased about that, and neither would my boyfriend, who is exceedingly jealous and very protective of me. He's also an experienced lawyer with lots of friends in _very_ high places, so I think I'll take the risk of trying to get through my trial period on my own merit this time. If I fail, at least I won't have compromised my relationship or my conscience. Now if you don't mind, Mr Arrow, Mr Townshend is waiting for me in his office to give me some dictation and I would like to leave the room."

I pick up my photocopying and hug the papers to my chest, thus cutting off his view. Before he has a chance to respond, I brush past him as I open the door and then I turn and look him straight in the eye.

"By the way, here's a piece of friendly advice, Mr Arrow. You were wearing a wedding ring this morning. I suggest you remember to put it back on before you go home to Mrs Arrow."

With that parting shot I walk back to the office in a calm manner then close the door gently behind me, even though I want to slam it shut then barricade it with the office furniture in case he's following me. I lean against the door while I take in some deep breaths and count to ten in my head and then my hands start to shake as what has just happened sinks in. Mr T appears from his office and takes one look at my face, which is probably as white as a sheet by now, and quickly takes the stack of documents from my trembling hands and leads me over to my chair where my legs finally give way.

"Are you alright, Bella?" he asks kindly.

"Yes, no, yes, I'm fine," I reply but my voice is wavering. "I've just been accosted by Mr Arrow in the photocopying room. He didn't touch me; he just suggested that….."

"What did he say, Bella?" Mr T interrupts, and I can tell he's really agitated and angry as his voice changes from the calm tone he had previously to a very assertive one.

"He implied that his influence got me this job and therefore I was obliged to show him how 'grateful' I was, _if_ I wanted to get through my trial period successfully that is."

I drew a deep breath and decide to be totally honest with Mr. T like Edward suggested.

"I also need to tell you that at my interview, as I was leaving the room, Mr Arrow and the other editor who was in there, said they were looking forward to putting their paws on my arse, which really upset me."

Mr T's eyes widen with shock but I carry on.

"I did what you said this time, Mr Townsend. I told Mr Arrow I had a boyfriend who's a lawyer, but I'm worried he'll be horrible to me now."

Mr T's face is a picture of fury. "Do you want me to report this to Personnel, Bella?"

"There's no point. The Personnel lady was in the interview room when they made the comment about my arse and she didn't say anything at the time. Can you just make a note that I've told you what's happened, just in case anything happens in the future."

Mr T starts to pace around the office and I can tell he's absolutely livid and is considering what to do next.

"Leave this with me, Bella," he barks. "I'm going to make absolutely certain this doesn't happen again. My last secretary…." And then he stops talking abruptly.

I look up at him and I know I'm wide-eyed. I guess straight away from that comment that this has happened before and could quite possibly have been the reason why she left. It wasn't my place to question him about it so I ignore what he said and pick up my notepad.

"Dictation now, Mr Townshend?"

"Yes, Bella; come in and we'll get stuck in to some work, but I'm truly sorry you've been subjected to this on your first day. I promise you I'll deal with it."

I work solidly for the rest of the afternoon, but as I'm typing, the basis for a future article for the Advertiser is forming in my head. I've had to do a lot of growing up today, and being verbally and visually molested by an overweight, nylon-shirted creep with a comb-over, is a wake-up call to what life is possibly like for office girls all over the city, and that's something I'm personally not prepared to put up with, even though it seems like it is totally acceptable for the working environment in the 1960's.

But what has just happened pales into insignificance against my memories of my lunchtime meeting with my Fleet Street lawyer, and the moment when I realised that I was hopelessly and irrevocably in love with Edward Cullen.

Damn!

* * *

 **Edward**

When I get back from lunch, Jenks is in the building for the first time for a few days and there's a note on my desk asking me to see him as soon as I return. Margaret has made me some tea so I pick up the mug and knock on Jenks' open door.

"Come in," he calls so I go in and sit down.

"How is Mrs Jenks?" I ask.

"Very sore but improving, thank you," Jenks replies. "I'm glad to have her home."

"I'm sure you are," I respond and wait for Jenks to continue.

"Edward, I need you to take over one of Simon's cases which was originally one of mine, but I passed it over to him a couple of weeks ago. As you know, his wife's expecting their first child, which was due to arrive sometime in May. She was warned on Friday that it might arrive any day now, a month earlier than expected, which has completely thrown him as he needs to be off for a few days when she comes home from hospital. This will mean you'll be away from the office from Wednesday onwards and this case could take a minimum of two to three weeks. Simon will take over your case-load in the meantime so you won't come back to a back-log."

I couldn't help it but I react by saying, "Oh Jesus," as I think about the implications of this, which mainly centres on no lunchtimes for a while with Bella. I knew I shouldn't do this but I play the 'dad card' hoping Jenks will take pity on me.

"I'd normally be happy to take this sort of thing on, Mr Jenks, but my father is still seriously ill and there's a reasonable chance he could have a relapse. Couldn't you ask John?"

"John is nowhere near as good as you are on employment law, Edward. If your father does take a turn for the worse then I'll request that you're replaced and I'll have to take over. The court will no doubt allow a change for this type of circumstance; they wouldn't for a new baby. The old-fashioned view is that men don't usually get involved with that sort of thing."

"Is it the Court of Enquiry for the power workers you want me to cover?"

"Yes, Edward. You'll be representing the Electrical Trade Union, but all five Unions involved will have lawyers present so you won't be on your own. I know this is a big ask as you haven't attended an Enquiry before, but we need someone on the ball here as power strikes are definitely on the cards."

I nod my head in agreement as I'm aware of the background to the dispute mainly from reading about it in the newspapers. The employers are trying to impose a three year pay agreement that had been ratified the previous year, but the workers still want improvements to their conditions. As an outsider I could see fault on both sides and a case for both parties. The Court of Enquiry would be acting as an arbitrator and would only be interested in facts and the law. The Enquiry had been set up swiftly and had to report its conclusions by the middle of May to avoid industrial action, which would mean power cuts if it wasn't resolved to the Union's satisfaction. Also, if the Unions were seen to be holding the country to ransom just for more money, which consequently would seriously inconvenience the general public, this could have a detrimental effect on the chances of Labour winning the next election, so a great deal was at stake.

I recognise it would be a fantastic opportunity for me to be there, but it would also mean I wouldn't see Bella until after the Enquiry was over so I had to warn her somehow. I was upset about that, but it would also give me a breathing space to think about the effect she was having on me.

"I'll take it on, Sir," I say semi-reluctantly, "but I'd be a liar if I said I was looking forward to it."

"Thank you, Edward, and I'm really sorry to have put you in this position. I know you must be stressed about your father and if there was another option…"

I make my way into Simon's room where he gives me all the paperwork plus an abject apology for lumping this on me at the last minute. Apparently the first midwife they saw got her dates wrong. When his wife went for her supposedly 35-week check with another midwife, the baby's head was already 'engaged', whatever this means, so his son or daughter was already in a position to make an appearance.

There's another cup of tea and two Blue Riband biscuits on my desk when I get back to my office, so obviously Margaret was in the loop with what's going on with the Enquiry and that makes me smile. I make a promise to myself that if the firm has to be sold, I would insist at any future interviews that I would be bringing my own secretary with me as there's no way I'm giving up my second mum!

I spend all afternoon ploughing through the mountain of paperwork but it isn't too onerous and I still have all day tomorrow to make notes. When the hands on the clock approach half past five, I keep my eyes on the Express doors as I've made my mind up to catch Bella at the bus stop and tell her what's happening.

At half past, I spot her navy coat in the foyer so I leap off my chair and run down the stairs two at a time. She sees me as she's crossing the road and I'm delighted to be the recipient of another one of her radiant smiles again.

"This is a surprise," she says. "Twice in one day; I'm honoured."

"Thanks," I reply, "but its bad news I'm afraid. I won't be around for a couple of weeks at least. I've been asked to attend a Court of Enquiry in place of one of my colleagues and it could drag on for ages. I'm just letting you know now so you won't think I'm dead, or my dad's dead, or I don't want to see you anymore."

"Oh right," she replies and she definitely looks disappointed. "It can't be helped I suppose."

"No, I'm a bit annoyed to be honest. Anyway….."

I'm just about to ask her for her telephone number when she comes up close to me and whispers in my ear.

"Edward, the man coming out the Express building is one of the men who wanted to put his paws on my arse. He propositioned me again this afternoon in the photocopying room and I told him I had an over-protective boyfriend who's a lawyer. Can you play the part please?"

"With pleasure," I reply and I thank God, the tooth fairy and anyone else who has given me this golden opportunity. I even thank the arsehole who has his beady eyes fixed on MY Bella so he's going to witness an Oscar-worthy performance that'll really put paid to any designs he has on MY girl.

I put my hand on her face cupping her chin then I brush my thumb over her cheek which is now so pink I can almost feel heat generating from it. I run the fingers of my other hand through her gorgeous curls then gently kiss her, leaving my lips touching hers for a lot longer than is absolutely necessary to convince this leering arsehole that she's mine.

"Was that okay," I whisper in her ear.

"Mmmmmmm," is her eloquent response, then she kisses me back with a lot more passion than before, and my body starts to respond in ways that are definitely not appropriate for a Fleet Street pavement.

I hear her bus pulling up at the stop before she does and I choose to ignore it as I'm not ready to bring this kiss to a halt, but she turns her face away from me and shrieks, "Gotta go! See you tomorrow, DARLING." She scampers along the street waving madly at the conductor to wait, then jumps onto the platform. As the bus moves away, she blows me a kiss knowing full well that the arsehole is still watching her as she hangs off the back of the bus waving at me.

I don't move until she's completely out of sight and then remain on the pavement, staring at the middle-aged, fat fucker who is definitely checking me out, so I shout across the road him.

"Oi, you! I'm the lawyer boyfriend. If you go anywhere near her again, or try and fuck-up her career, you're toast; do you understand me, tosser?"

I walk back to my doorway then turn to see if he's still watching me. He is, so I tap on the door as I open it and point to the lettering on the glass then I shout across the street again.

"Specialising in Employment Law as well, arsehole. Your worst fucking nightmare!"

I walk into reception to see Jane and Margaret standing there with their mouths wide open.

"Ooops! Sorry ladies," I choke out then scarper up the stairs two at a time without giving them an explanation, feeling slightly embarrassed but highly amused.

When I get to my office I go straight over to the window but he's gone by then so I slump into my chair and spin it around several times while I re-live the precious seconds when Bella's lips met mine. To say the kisses were earth-shattering would be a gross understatement as I was still sporting the physical effect she had on me. I thank my lucky stars that I'm wearing my medium-weight trousers today or Jane and Margaret would have had something else to be shocked about when I walked through the door.

These next two weeks would be a trial, in an alternative meaning of the word. Not seeing her might break the spell she's had on me but it might do the complete opposite. Time would tell. But in the meantime I had an Enquiry to plan for, which could have implications on who would be running the country after October's election. As a distraction, I couldn't think of anything better, or worse, whichever way you looked at it.

Until the day I walk away from the Enquiry, I would have to be content with the memory of Bella's soft, velvety lips on mine, the feel of her smooth pink cheeks when I brushed my thumbs over them and the texture of her abundant curls tumbling through my fingers. With those thoughts in my mind, I tuck my lower half under my desk just in case either Jane or Margaret walks through the door, and reluctantly open the next boring file.

* * *

 **Bella**

I can't remember the bus journey home as my head is in a spin the whole way. I also can't believe I had the nerve to kiss him back after he kissed me in front of 'Arrow, Alan Arrow'. I could however remember the feel of his soft, gentle lips on mine, and his long, sensuous fingers sliding through my hair, then the unbelievably powerful temptation to wrap myself around him and never let him go, (even though we were on the pavement in Fleet Street with one of my new bosses staring at me).

I'm now lying on my bed having floated off the bus and the rest of the way home on a fluffy white cloud, then through the front door and up the stairs. I still feel as though I'm hovering a few inches off the bed, like one of those magician's assistants on variety shows. My emotions are bouncing back and forth from feeling shocked, ecstatic, embarrassed, turned-on, overjoyed, jubilant and mortified, but most of all I'm completely and utterly thrilled that he didn't hesitate when I asked him to 'play the boyfriend' but threw himself into it wholeheartedly and with gusto. If that was an act, he should be awarded an Oscar, but if he wasn't acting then at least I know he's more than interested in me romantically.

The frustrating thing is that I might not see him for a couple of weeks and I wonder how I'm going to cope. At least it will give me time to draw breath and I hope he's feeling the same. Even though it's been a slow build-up from Monday 23rd March, which is exactly three weeks ago since he first saw me outside the Express, for me it's been a gradual burn to how I'm feeling right now, which is so flaming hot I could keep Battersea Power Station alight just by standing next to the furnace.

I'm desperate to talk to Alice about my lunchtime conversation with Edward, so decide to go to the phone box after dinner and call her. It's funny, but even if we had a phone at home, I'd never be able to talk to her about this sort of thing as my family would be listening. I'd still have to call her from a stinky red phone box just to get some privacy.

Mum calls me down for dinner then. It's just me and her tonight as Mike said he would be home very late and dad is at yet another union meeting. It makes me wonder what they talk about for hours. I also wonder if Mike is still working on the case he told me about. He's hardly ever at home in the evening, but no-one seems unduly concerned, probably because he's a bloke which is a bit unfair really.

After helping mum wash up, I go out to the phone box with a supply of sixpences but Alice is out somewhere with Jaz. I tell her mother I'd call her tomorrow and go back home disappointed as I really needed to talk to someone about the kissing incident. Instead I spend the evening writing my article about the lack of affordable clothes for teenagers and young adults in department stores and ask the question why the big chains haven't picked up on this gap in the market. I invite readers to write in with their shopping experiences and also to let other readers know where they buy their clothes. I work on the article until about ten-thirty then switch my light off and try to get to sleep, but it's impossible.

As soon as I close my eyes, all I can see is Edward's face coming towards me and feeling his lips covering mine so tenderly. His strong fingers on one hand are working their way into my hair and the fingers on his other hand are ghosting over my cheek. As I re-live that moment, my body reacts like it did when I walked past the Rocker in the Coach and Horses. I'm tingling _everywhere,_ and I recall what Alice said about touching yourself to 'get off'. I wouldn't have a clue what to do or where to touch, so even though I'm turned on by the thought of Edward being in bed with me, I have to make do with wrapping my arms around myself and imagining it's Edward's arms embracing me and that has to be enough.

I'd obviously managed to drop off because I'm woken by Mike coming up the stairs in the middle of the night. I glance at the luminous hands on the clock and see it reads one-fifteen. I've never known Mike to come in this late on a week night and I'm curious to find out what he's been up to. Maybe he's got a girlfriend at last which would please me no-end.

I roll over and stuff my face in my pillow trying to not 'see' Edward in my mind's eye and unsuccessfully attempt to get back to sleep. After a few minutes of re-living Edward's lips on mine again, I hear a groan coming from Mike's room. I don't know whether I've imagined it, but a minute or so later I hear another groan, so there's obviously something wrong.

I get up and open my bedroom door and gently knock on Mike's, hoping I don't wake mum or dad.

"Are you okay?" I whisper.

"I'm fine," he replies, but I definitely hear a sharp intake of breath, like he's wincing in pain.

"No you're not," I hiss. "I'm coming in."

As I push open the door he replies "No" sharply, but he's not quick enough. He's sitting in the dark on the edge of the bed, thankfully still fully clothed, but the arc lights from the railway track are lighting the room up enough for me to see an ugly bruise and scuff marks on the side of his face and blood seeping from a deep cut on his mouth.

"What the hell's happened," I whisper. "Have you been in a fight?"

Mike grimaces then groans again.

"If you call being beaten up by a load of East End thugs a fight, then yes, I've been in a fight, but it was a bit one-sided."

"What do you mean?" I ask as I sit next to him on the bed and examine the bruising on his left cheekbone.

"You've heard of the Krays I presume?"

"Oh Jesus," I choke in shock. "You're not mixed up with that lot, are you?"

Even I'd heard of the Kray Twins and their infamous gang known as 'The Firm'. They ran protection rackets all over East London and the seedier parts of the West End and were well-known to be highly dangerous. Everyone was aware that The Roxy and all the other pubs and clubs in the area had to pay 'dues' to their hoodlums to avoid getting turned over. East Enders knew about them but nobody talked about them, otherwise you'd end up floating face-down in the Thames or become part of the foundations of one of the new buildings springing up all over the city. They were the dominant figures in the East End criminal underworld and it was a situation you had to live with, not unlike the Mafia who controlled parts of Italy and America.

"No, I'm not mixed up with them," Mike replies and then he groans again as he tries to make himself more comfortable, "but I heard on the grapevine that one of them is a homosexual and has been carrying on with a well-known Tory Peer. I've been following the movements of the Peer, as it would be an amazing story if it got out, and I've seen him with Ronnie Kray several times. A few days ago I managed to get some photographs of the two of them coming out of a club in Soho and now I realise I should've backed off then, but I was greedy for more as this could be my big break. Unfortunately one of Reggie's thugs spotted me hanging around tonight and remembered me from before, so I got duffed up and warned off."

"What are you going to do now then?" I ask and I know I sound panicky as the Krays could send their thugs to our house and do considerable damage, if not murder.

"Well, I'm staying out their way for sure. I'm not that stupid and I'm not going to risk my life again. I know I'm lucky to be alive now, so if they spot me again I'm definitely dead. The only way I can get this story out now is to give what I've got to a national newspaper. I've got a contact at the Sunday Mirror, so I'm going to try and reach him tomorrow so I can show him my evidence."

"Mike, be careful," I say. "These guys are not to be messed with. They'll come after you if they suspect the story's come from you."

"Don't worry, Bells. I gave them a false name when they grabbed me and they presumed I'm a poof, which was why I was hanging around in the pub. It's a well-known meeting place for homosexuals and it's the one that the Peer goes to regularly. Luckily I didn't have my camera or any identification with me so they bought my story, called me a dirty queer then re-modelled my face."

I got up from the bed and crept along the landing to the bathroom where I dampened a couple of flannels and took them back in to Mike. He'd taken his shirt off by then and I could see there was extensive bruising on his ribs and deep finger marks on his arms where strong hands had gripped him. He really needed to lie in warm water, but filling the bath would probably wake mum and dad and Mike didn't want them seeing him covered in blood. Luckily they'd slept through all this; we could hear them both snoring blissfully and I knew from experience it would take more than a creaking floorboard to wake them up.

Mike told me to go back to bed and get some sleep so I crept back in my room and luckily dropped off fairly quickly. Even though Mike had been duffed-up by the Kray gang, I could actually stop worrying about where he was going at night now because I really did trust him when he said he wouldn't go anywhere near the Krays again. Mike is ambitious to be sure, but being beaten up and having his life threatened had shown him there's no story that's worth risking your life for.

* * *

When I wake the following morning I thought I'd dreamt the whole Mike/Kray Twins drama, until I hear an almighty row taking place downstairs, and from what I can make out it's obvious my parents have seen the state of Mike's face which would be impossible to hide. If they saw the bruising on his arms and chest as well, they would probably be marching him straight along to the police station, which would be a waste of time as the police allegedly turn a blind eye to the antics of the Krays in return for massive back-handers. I stay well out of the way until I hear my dad leave for work, then Mike follows about ten minutes later. I cautiously make my way downstairs and find mum in the kitchen; she'd been crying so I go over to her and give her a hug.

"That boy," she sobs. "I know something awful's going to happen to him one day. You see if I'm not right. He was in a fight last night and he's come home with a black eye and a busted lip."

"Did he tell you what happened?" I ask. I wasn't going to say what he told me or that his body was probably black and blue by now. I guessed he'd want me not to worry them.

"No, even though your dad threatened him. Mike said it's his business and we're to stay out of it. Your dad's furious."

"I bet he is," I reply sympathetically then go upstairs and get ready for work.

I'm relieved that Mike didn't mentioned the Krays as this would've caused mum to have a stroke. I give her another hug before I leave and grab some cold toast mum had probably made for dad then head out the door. While I'm waiting for the bus, I'm praying that I'll have a quiet day at work as I haven't had much sleep, and to be totally honest there's too much going on in my life for me to cope with.

As I clamber on the bus and plop myself down in the nearest vacant seat, I resolve never ever ever ever to complain about life being boring from now on.

* * *

 **Edward**

Tuesday 14th April 1964

I was hoping to see Bella sometime today but it was impossible. I got sent off to meet the lawyers who were representing the other Unions involved with the Enquiry and I ended up being introduced to George Brown, the Deputy Leader of the Labour Party, and some of the heads of the five Trades Unions involved. The other lawyers had been preparing for this for some weeks, but were very supportive and sympathetic when I told them I'd been thrown in at the deep end yesterday and felt a bit out of my depth. They all seemed to know about my success with the dock workers case, so at least I've come to the table with a victory under my belt and with it the confidence they won't treat me as a young lawyer with no relevant experience.

They were also aware who I was related to and asked about my father's health. I was pleasantly surprised to learn they all held him in high regard and genuinely hoped he would continue to be the Master of the Rolls when his condition improved. I told them it was early days and whether he would be physically able to return to work would be up to his doctors, but knowing my father he would be determined to get back to the Appeal Court as fast as possible.

I don't get back to the office until nearly six o'clock and Bella will have been long-gone by then. Margaret has stayed behind to finish up some work and I finally get the chance to ask her about her mother. She's quite tearful when she tells me she's had come to terms with the fact that she cannot cope with her at home anymore and is looking to place her in a nursing home. I said the usual "if there is anything I can do to help," but I'm not in a position to give her any assistance or advice as I've never had to deal with anything like this. Margaret's situation makes me realise how lucky I am coming from a wealthy family. If either of my parents became disabled or had a stroke, or caught some horrible disease, if it was over and above what the NHS would provide for free, money would be available for their care. I hadn't given my father's on-going medical needs a second thought; I knew it would be taken care of and not by me.

I leave my discussion with Margaret even more determined she would be my number one consideration if the firm folded. By the sounds of it she had no support network around her as she'd never married and therefore had no younger generation to help her. After our brief conversation she now knows she has me.

Jasper isn't in when I get home, but he has left some chicken and potatoes in the oven on a low heat, plus a note to say he's at Alice's this evening. After congratulating myself on having an awesome cook as a housemate, I watch a bit of TV, phone my mother to get an update on dad, get my black suit out ready for tomorrow and have an early night.

* * *

 **Bella**

My second day with Mr T went smoothly and he complimented me on the report I'd compiled from his notes. Arrow was nowhere to be seen which I was relieved about but I had a shock in the afternoon though as my new contract of employment was left on my desk during my lunch break. When I had a chance to look it over, instead of the twelve pounds a week I thought I'd be earning, I was only being paid ten. Also, I would be paid monthly from now on, so I would have to wait until Thursday 30th April before I got any money. I hadn't been warned about this and had very little left after buying my coat and my other clothes at the weekend, but at least I would get money from my articles to keep me going.

I spoke to Mr T about my salary and he was surprised as well and suggested I go to Personnel to ask whether they had made a mistake. While he was in a meeting, I went along to the office and spoke to the lady who interviewed me and asked her why I wasn't getting the salary that was advertised.

"Miss Swan," she replied in a condescending voice. "You cannot expect to be paid the same as the girls who are better qualified than you. We're not expecting you to work to their level, so ten pounds a week is quite sufficient for a girl like you. You can always go back to the typing pool if you wish."

"Really?" I practically spit at her and I can hardly contain my anger. "So tell me, in what way does my job differ from the other girls? What is 'a girl like me' _not_ expected to do that the other girls do? Give me some guidance here, as Mr Townshend seems very pleased with me so far."

"Miss Swan, I don't need to give you any explanation for my decision. You either accept ten pounds a week or return to the typing pool. Your choice."

I don't bother responding but stalk back to my office, fuming about the injustice of my situation. I stupidly presumed I'd been employed as an equal, but prejudice towards Secondary Modern girls was rife, even when they were doing the same job as Grammar School girls.

When Mr T comes back from his meeting, he takes one look at my face and can tell I'm upset.

"What's happened, Bella," he asks. "Have you been propositioned again? I'll have Arrow's balls in a vice if he's disrespected you in any way."

I shake my head and try to speak but I can't help it and burst into tears. This injustice has floored me, plus I'm worried about Mike, I'm still worried about Jake, and I'm already missing seeing Edward. Being oggled at and then being treated unfairly is the last straw and I feel like telling that cow in Personnel where to stick her job and walk out.

Mr T closes the door and pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket and waits for me to calm down.

"I'm sorry," I sob into his hanky. "It's just so wrong. I'm doing the same job as the other girls, but because I've got CSE's and not GCE's they're paying me a lot less. I don't know if I can work here anymore, Mr Townshend. It's just not fair."

"No, it's not fair, Bella. In fact it's not on and I'm going to sort it. Give me your contract. I'm going to Personnel right now and kick a few arses."

Before I have a chance to stop him he grabs the envelope and disappears. While he's gone, I shoot into the cloakroom and tidy myself up then make both of us a cup of coffee. He's away from the office for at least fifteen minutes and when he returns he hands me another envelope.

"Twelve pounds a week, Bella. I told her you were worth every penny and I was not prepared to lose a secretary because of her snobbery. She had absolutely no authority to do that so I threatened to report her to management and the Unions. I lost my last secretary because I'm obliged to work with a bunch of Neanderthal perverts and I'm not losing another one because of her prejudices."

"Thank you Mr Townshend," I mutter gratefully and I almost start crying again because he's being so kind.

"Something else you should know," he says angrily. "You'll have to open a bank account. Monthly paid staff get their salary in a cheque. I'm presuming that snotty bitch has conveniently forgotten to tell you that as well."

I nod my head and wonder how the heck I'm going to sort this out before the end of the month, especially as banks are only open on Monday to Friday between half past nine and three o'clock. I start to panic as I haven't got a clue how to even apply for a bank account as mum and dad have never had one. I'm not sure whether Mike has got one either because he's not twenty-one yet but then he must have as he's paid monthly too. Mr T obviously recognises the look of horror on my face and takes pity on me again.

"Don't worry about it, Bella. There's a Barclays in Fetter Lane. I've got an account there so I'll go with you and help you set one up. We can go together tomorrow lunchtime."

"Thank you so much," I choke out. "You've been so kind to me. I'm so pleased you're my boss."

"You're welcome, Bella" he replies and laughs. "Unfortunately some of the people who work here are complete shits, but you and I are going to be a great team. Trust me. And from now on call me Garrett."

"Yes Mr… Yes, Garrett."

"Okay, now we've got that sorted, let's get some terrific work done."

I follow Garrett into his room confident I have an ally in this man. If only all men were like him. I'd learned another valuable lesson today that even if you're young and inexperienced, you must fight for what is right and fair and not allow yourself to be walked over.

That's another article sorted!

* * *

 **Mr T is a bit of a hero, so at least Bella has him on her side. She'll be able to get stuck into the job now which will take her mind off not seeing Edward for a couple of weeks.**

 **Next chapter I'm jumping forward in time to the beginning of May, as I'm sure you don't want to hear all about the angst they're going through while Edward is slaving away at the Enquiry. **

FYI

 **The Kray Twins** \- where do I start? There have been films made about Ronnie and Reggie Kray, who were gangsters in the East End during the 1950's and 60's. They were involved with protection rackets, assaults, armed robberies, arson and two provable murders. They also ran night clubs, which were a front for their organisation (The Firm). They mixed with prominent politicians and entertainers, including (allegedly) Frank Sinatra and Judy Garland. They were eventually convicted of murder and both sentenced to life imprisonment. Ronnie died in prison in 1995, and Reggie was released eight weeks before he died of cancer in 2000. Mike's story about Ronnie having a relationship with a Tory Peer is true and was going on at this time. When the story broke, it apparently did have an effect on the election result.

I apologise for using the words ' **Poof** ' and ' **Queer** ' in the story. The word 'Gay' was not yet part of the LGBT vocabulary in the 1960's, and being a homosexual was still a criminal offence in the UK. It wasn't until 1967 that the law was changed for men over the age of 21. (It was never illegal for women to be gay by the way). The Gay community in Britain has just celebrated 50 years of liberty. Excellent stuff.

The Power Workers Dispute and the **Court of Enquiry** was also was happening at exactly this time. As Edward said, there was fault on both sides and how it was resolved would possibly have a bearing on the October election.

 **Next chapter we jump forward three weeks to 2nd May, which is Cup Final day. Also, Edward will have an unwelcome visitor.**

Joan xx


	24. Chapter 24

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 23**

 **The story has jumped forward nearly three weeks to Saturday 2nd May 1964**

 **Bella**

Nine o'clock in the morning and its Cup Final Day at last. I'm lying in bed listening to dad and Mike crashing around the house getting ready for the match so I'm not venturing out of my room until they're gone. The local pub has hired a coach which will take them and thirty others to Wembley and they want to set off early so they can get at least four hours drinking time in before the kick-off at three. I stay out of the way, as even though the whole of the East End has gone football crazy over the past week or so, I'm not that excited about twenty-two men kicking an inflated leather bag around a pitch just to win a piece of silverware. Saying that, some of the West Ham team are actually quite handsome, so I could have my arm twisted to go along to a game if the opportunity arose.

At about nine-fifteen I hear the front door crash shut and the house is peaceful at last. I stay tucked up for another ten minutes before creeping into the bathroom then downstairs to put the kettle on. Mum appears in the kitchen a few minutes later and we drink our tea together in blissful silence then make ourselves a massive fry-up, with more tea of course.

"How's your job now?" mum asks as we wash and dry the dishes together. "Is your boss still treating you well?"

"Yeah, he's great," I reply as I stack the plates away. "I love working for Garrett. He introduced me to his wife and children the other day. They met him after work as they were going to the theatre together."

"That's nice," mum says. "Are the other secretaries still being a pain?"

"A few of them are. Kate and a couple of the other girls are really nice and sometimes we have lunch together if it's raining. I just ignore the others. I occasionally see Sue from the typing pool as well and I try and chat to Mrs Black at least once a week."

"How's Jake now. Have you seen him since the accident?"

"No, he's still not back at work or The Roxy because of his head injury. He'll be okay though. Alice and Jaz have been to see him and he's in good spirits despite not being allowed to buy another scooter. His dad is giving him his old Ford Anglia, so as soon as he's fit he's going to start taking driving lessons. That's given him something to look forward to."

"So he won't be a Mod anymore then?"

"Don't be daft, mum; he'll still be a Mod. You don't have to own a scooter to be a Mod. Quite a few of the older guys are getting cars now."

"Oh right," mum says and shakes her head. "I don't understand all this 'dressing up to all look the same' malarkey."

"You did it in the 1940's, mum. Girls all wanted to look the same then."

"I suppose you're right. We all want to conform and not look different, don't we? Times are definitely changing though and your skirts are getting far too short."

"Mum!" I exclaim. "At least I've got decent legs; I might as well show them off."

"Alright, Bella. Off you go and get dressed; I need lots of help today. There's plenty to do before the boys get back. They're either going to be ecstatically happy or unbelievably miserable, but no matter what happens at the match, they'll definitely be starving hungry. It doesn't matter whether West Ham wins or loses, the East End will be having a party tonight and we've got lots of sandwiches to make."

I run upstairs and pull on some scruffy clothes as I don't want my best ones to get covered in Branston Pickle or tomato ketchup. Mum and a couple of our neighbours are making the sandwiches, other neighbours are baking cakes and sausage rolls. An outside kitchen is being set up to cook hot dogs and every family is bringing their own alcohol or soft drinks to the party.

I look out the front window at our street which is unrecognisable from yesterday now that it's been decorated for the party tonight. Colourful bunting has been strung from lamppost to lamppost and is fluttering and snapping in the breeze and every house is decked out in the West Ham colours of claret and gold. It reminds me of the Coronation in 1953, which is the abiding memory of my childhood. I was eight when the Queen was crowned and it was the first time I'd ever seen mum a bit tipsy. The East End may be run down and poor, but the residents sure know how to throw a street party, so I was really looking forward to tonight as I know it's going to be great fun, whatever happens on the pitch.

At two o'clock Alice turns up to watch the match with us and we make ourselves comfortable in the living room. We cover the floor with drinks and snacks and settle down to concentrate on what's happening on our small TV. I'm trying to spot dad or Mike in the crowd during the hour-long build up to the game, and Alice is looking out for Jaz. It's like trying to find a needle in a haystack though as there are a hundred thousand excitable fans crushed into Wembley Stadium. To make it even harder, we can't make out which end the West Ham fans are standing because the TV picture is just in black and white.

Even though I'm not interested in the actual sport, I'm instantly caught up in the enthusiasm for the match. By the kick-off I'm as frantic as any other supporter in the stadium and I'm yelling at the West Ham players as loudly as anyone in the crowd as soon as they appear for the first time walking up the famous tunnel and onto the pitch. After the crowd sings the national anthem, the referee blows the whistle at exactly three o'clock and the game kicks-off.

After ten minutes of play the opposition team, Preston North End, score, and our spirits slump, but West Ham immediately hit back and equalize straight away. Mum, Alice and I are doing the Conga around the living room for about five minutes then we settle down again and concentrate on the game. Its end to end stuff and actually quite thrilling, but just before half time Preston score again so we're deflated and miserable all the way through the fifteen minute interval.

We all shoot up to the bathroom during the break then replenish the drinks and crisps ready for the second half. I'm actually feeling quite sick I'm so tense (and from stuffing my face with lemonade and greasy snacks) and can hardly keep still on the sofa. Alice is just as much into it as I am and is actually on her feet, yelling at Geoff Hurst, their star player, to "pull his eff-ing finger out," when he scores, so now it's two-two.

I can hear our neighbours shouting and cheering in their living rooms as everyone in the street has their windows open. I'm on my feet dancing around but eventually I settle down and concentrate on the play again as there's still over half an hour to go before the final whistle. By the time the ninety minutes is drawing to a close and the commentators are already talking about going into extra time or possibly having to replay the whole match next week, which is the last thing anyone wants, I'm nearly having a nervous breakdown and my voice is now hoarse from all the screaming and yelling.

Both teams have chances to score in the closing minutes, but it's still two-two when the clock clicks past the ninety-minute mark. While a few minutes of extra-time for stoppages is being played before the whistle goes and extra-time will then have to be played, the West Ham goalkeeper boots the ball to the half-way line where Geoff Hurst is waiting. He then skilfully dribbles it to Brabrook, who kicks a brilliant pass straight onto Boyce's foot, who then blasts the ball into the back of Preston's net.

The East End erupts.

No-one bothers waiting for the final whistle and the ceremony where a member of the Royal Family hands the Cup over to the players. Every front door is flung open and all over the East End, the fans who've been watching the match at home pour out onto the streets and the parties start in earnest. An old lady called Mavis who lives at the end of our road, gets a couple of young lads to manhandle her piano onto the pavement and then starts playing all the traditional Cockney anthems that everyone knows the words to, like _The Lambeth Walk, Roll out the Barrel_ and _Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner_. By the time dad, Mike and Jaz turn up two hours later singing _I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles_ at the top of their voices, our street is heaving with revellers. Alice's parents arrive about the same time as their street is too posh to organise a party, and they get absolutely legless along with everybody else. Quite a few of the Roxy Mods, including Angela and Tyler and the twins with their girlfriends, come along too as their parties aren't as lively as ours and the dancing and singing carries on until about two in the morning, after which everybody drifts back to their homes leaving the clearing up for the next morning.

I emerge from my bedroom at about midday feeling like death. I hadn't planned on drinking much alcohol because I'm still a total lightweight and not used to it yet, but I do remember knocking back what I was assured was a 'fruit punch', and not remembering much after that. Its name was apt though; it definitely tasted 'fruity', but the effect was you felt like you'd been 'punched' by Cassius Clay. Never again!

I get dressed and wander out onto the street. Luckily most of the clearing up had been done by our neighbours and I feel a bit guilty sleeping through it all. I tidy up our front garden which is littered with deflated balloons, bunting and empty beer bottles, then go back indoors and spend the rest of the afternoon slumped on the sofa. Dad and Mike roll in from the pub at about four and they're blind drunk again. After helping to tidy up the street, all the men had legged it to the pub so they could re-live the experience with their mates, as the whole match was being shown again on the TV. After mum yells at both of them about the state they're in, (they can hardly stand up), we all sit down and have a late Sunday roast dinner together.

One really good bonus from yesterday and today's events was that dad and Mike had bonded like never before. West Ham winning the Cup Final had brought them closer together and now they shared a common experience that could be re-lived over and over again. Despite their different opinions about politics and practically everything else you can think of, this father and son team were now members of the same 'gang'. They were West Ham supporters and would follow their team through good times and bad.

Maybe kicking around an inflated leather bag has some good points after all.

* * *

 **Edward**

It's Saturday morning and I'm lying in bed listening to Jasper cursing in his room. He's obviously lost something because I can hear him saying, "what the effing-heck have I done with it" and other similar remarks. In the end I can't stand it and get up.

"What the hell's going on?" I shout through his door.

"I've lost my Cup Final ticket," he yells back. "I definitely had it last night. Have we been burgled again?"

"No, you stupid idiot," I groan. "It's already in your coat pocket by the front door. I watched you put it in there before you went to bed last night."

I hear a slap, which is probably Jasper smacking his own forehead.

"Sorry, Ed, did I wake you?" he shouts through the door.

"Yes, you did, you inconsiderate bastard. For that you can make breakfast before you go and I'll forgive you."

Jasper comes out of his room grinning and quickly disappears downstairs and I follow at a more leisurely pace. While Jasper starts scrambling the eggs, I take charge of making the coffee and then take a seat at the breakfast bar while it percolates.

"I didn't think you'd be home," Jasper comments brightly. "I thought you were planning on staying at Emmett's on Friday and Saturday night?"

I huff before answering.

"I was knackered when I got home from work last night," I explain. "I called Emmett after you went out and he had something else going on and wasn't planning on going to the Ace this weekend. So I did the boring thing and stayed in."

I'd only been to the Ace once since my almost-fight with James and that was just a quick trip there and back the previous Friday. These last few weeks had taken their toll on me. I'd been obliged to spend ridiculously long days at the Enquiry, plus I was getting no pleasure out of riding Tara or Sadie ever since my epiphany a few weeks ago.

"This Enquiry is getting to you, isn't it," Jasper replies knowingly and gives me a sympathetic look.

"That's the understatement of the year. It's long, it's boring, it's tedious, it's dull and monotonous; in fact it's every adjective you can think of that's the opposite of exciting, stimulating or riveting. What's worse is that Simon's baby hasn't appeared yet, so I feel like finding out who his wife's midwife is and throttling her, as she obviously hasn't got a clue what she's talking about."

Jasper chuckles at that. "Is it nearly over?"

"Yeah, I've probably only got another few days in Court then Lord Justice Pearson will start on his report. I'll be glad when I walk away from it."

"I'll be glad too," Jasper replies. "You've been an absolute misery to live with for the last couple of weeks. The old Edward had better come back or I'm moving out and you can cook your own dinner from then on."

"Thanks a bunch," I reply sarcastically as he puts a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs and perfectly toasted toast in front of me. 'I'll miss the bugger if he goes,' I muse as I scoff my breakfast and drink my coffee.

Jasper leaves after warning me he may not be home tonight. If West Ham win, he said he'll probably go back to Alice's and celebrate in the East End. I'm really envious, and that's another reason why I'm morose because I'm missing Bella. I thought I might shake off my infatuation during these few weeks away from her, but my feelings are just as strong as when I last saw her on April 13th.

I admit during the tedious Enquiry my mind would wander back to the moment she kissed me, but then my imagination would take over and I would pull her into a dark alley and the kisses would become even more passionate to the point of being frenzied. My hands would explore her body and she would moan into my mouth when she became aroused. I'd pull her skirt around her waist then my fingers would explore the area between her legs. She would hook one knee over my hip giving me permission to go further, so I'd push her underwear to one side while my other hand undid my fly. I'd be hard as a rock by then and as I thrust into her she would gasp at the size of me. (Okay, I'm being a bit vain here).

From then on, depending on how totally disconnected I was from what was going on at the Enquiry, several different scenarios followed the initial conquest, my favourite two being her having multiple orgasms because of my prowess, or her finishing me off orally after I'd sent her into a frenzy.

I totally accept that this situation would never occur in real life as there's no way I could risk having _al fresco_ sex with Bella anywhere, but my daydreams helped me endure the hours upon hours of inane rhetoric from the lawyers, union bosses and employers, who went over and over the same ground, day after day after day.

Sometimes I think I'm not cut-out to be a lawyer.

Mum had called last night to say that dad is being let out of hospital today which is about two weeks earlier than originally anticipated, but only because mum has arranged to have him home-nursed. He's now officially 'out of danger', but he still has some major recuperation ahead of him which could take months, depending on how cooperative he is. I'm sure the nurses are glad to get rid of him because he's become a cantankerous old git while he's been on the cardiac ward, mainly because he's been denied his cigarettes and alcohol.

While he's been in hospital, mum and Rosie have gone through every cupboard and drawer at home to locate and then dispose of all his secret stashes of cigars, fags and booze. I can imagine dad will be excitedly looking forward to getting home so he can plunder one of his hidey-holes behind their backs. Then he'll be spitting feathers when he realises he won't be able to sneak a 'quick puff' or a 'wee dram' of anything illicit. I'm glad I won't be around to hear his reaction which will probably turn the air blue.

Even though he's made remarkable progress, dad is still a frail shadow of the man who stood up and made a speech at his anniversary bash, so it will be some time before he can be let loose in a courtroom again. He'd indicated to me he's determined to return to the Appeal Court, and his aim is to be back on the bench for when the Great Train Robbers appeal against their sentences. From what was being reported on the TV and in the newspapers, they were going to be given lengthy terms without any doubt. The authorities wanted revenge on the Robbers who were now becoming anti-heroes, because this audacious and now world-famous robbery was making headlines all over the world and they needed to show that crime doesn't pay.

I spend the rest of the morning food shopping, tidying the flat and calling my dad when he arrived home from hospital, which is actually quite an emotional moment for both of us. Then I settle down to watch the match with four cans of lager, a bottle of red wine and a couple of family-size packs of cheese and onion crisps. I'm not that interested in football as a sport; rugby is my preferred winter game then cricket in the summer, but I have to admit the match is very exciting and I'm delighted for Jasper, Bella and her family and friends, that West Ham won. I can imagine that the East End will be in uproar by now and I'm tempted to get one of the bikes out and ride over there to see what's going on, but decide not to as I'm probably unfit through drink to be on the road.

The wine has made me sleepy, and probably because I'm mentally exhausted as well, I nod off on the sofa after the match is over and wake up with a start to find it has already gone dark. I must have been asleep for at least three hours as it stays light until about eight-thirty now so I sit up and rub my eyes. I can hear someone moving around outside so I wander over to the window to see who it is before closing the curtains and putting some lights on. When I look down onto the pavement I spot someone crouched in front of the stable doors and I instantly recognise the body-shape and clothing as the person that tried to break-in before.

I slip my shoes on and creep down the stairs trying not to make any noise. Before I put my hand on the door latch, I pick up a heavy gents umbrella that sits by the door and turn it so I'm holding the pointy end, figuring the wooden handle would do some serious damage if it came in contact with the burglar's head, which is what I fully intend doing to the bastard.

I take a deep breath for courage then quickly flick the latch and jump out into the street, raising the umbrella in the air to lash out at whoever this is. He springs up and turns to look me straight in the eyes and I recognise the face, even though most of it is covered by a balaclava-style hood.

"Victoria!" I hiss in surprise, and then I spot flames are licking around the stable door. Victoria's face distorts into a satisfied smirk and she takes a step back from me.

"That's for dumping me, and making me look like a fool in front of my friends and family, you piece of shit," she spits and then takes off up the road knowing full well I won't choose to follow her as my first priority will be to put the fire out.

From the sight of the metal canister discarded on the cobbles and the smell that's emanating from the flames, it's obvious she's tipped oil or petrol over the doors and some of it has seeped through into the stable. I start to panic as the fire is spreading rapidly but I have to think quickly. I know if I go in the house and call the fire brigade, they won't be here in time to save Tara and Sadie, so I run down to Alec's house where I can see he's in because there are lights on upstairs. I bang on his door, then yell through his letterbox "Fire! Help!"

I run back to my house shouting 'Fire, Fire, Fire' at the top of my voice to alert my other neighbours who I can see are mostly at home as curtains are being moved. On the way I grab one of my next door neighbour's ornamental flower pots and tip the soil and plants onto the oil in an effort to smother the flames, then grab my other neighbour's pots and do the same. By then, Alec is racing towards me with a fire extinguisher in his hands and while he's spraying foam all over the doors which are burning rapidly, my next-door neighbour, who I've hardly spoken to in the two years I've lived here, comes out with a water extinguisher and joins in the battle.

We can see flames inside the garage through a small crack that has opened up in the wood so when the flames on our side of the door have died down, I gingerly open one of the doors with the key. As soon as it's ajar, Alec and the other neighbour blast the remaining flames that roar up when a fresh source of oxygen is introduced and then another neighbour appears with a bucket full of sand which he tips all over the ground. The garage alarm is blaring because I can't get in to switch it off but once we are satisfied that the flames aren't going to re-ignite, I cover my mouth and nose with my sweater to avoid inhaling the billowing smoke, then take a running jump across the oily floor and punch the code in to silence it.

By this time all my neighbours are out on the street to see what's going on. I'm just thanking Alec and the others who've helped me, when a fire engine turns up with all the bells ringing. Someone must have made the 999 call, but I would have had to call them anyway because of a future insurance claim. Also, I would have to inform the police and report Victoria as she could have killed me and possibly my neighbours too, as the mews are all connected in a terrace and the fire could have jumped from house to house.

"Are you okay," Alec asks as he pats me on the back.

I'm about to say 'yes' but notice that my hands are shaking violently and I suddenly feel dizzy. One of my neighbours brings out a chair from his hallway for me to sit on and a minute or so later, a cup of hot sweet tea is thrust into my hand. I've never spoken to or met some of my neighbours before, but they all rally round and even the firemen who are checking the stable and mine and my neighbours houses soon have cups of tea in their hands.

"Thanks for your help, mate," I say gratefully to Alec. "The girls would be wrecks by now. I owe you and the guy next door big time."

"You're welcome," he replies. "Anyway, don't worry about Tara and Sadie; they can live in my stable until your doors are fixed. I've got stacks of room. What the hell happened?"

"Angry ex from a holiday romance I'm afraid."

"Bloody-hell!"

"Exactly."

"Are you going to report her?"

"Definitely. She could've killed me and the guy next door. She's a mental case."

The chief fireman declares that my house and next door are structurally sound so Alec and I go into the garage and wheel Tara and Sadie down to his place. I check them over, but apart from being wet and stinking of smoke they are thankfully undamaged.

It wasn't necessary to call the police as the fire department had automatically informed them and a couple of officers are at my door by the time I return from re-housing the bikes. I give them a brief statement where I name Lady Victoria Devonshire as the culprit. The officer explains I'll have to make a fuller statement at the police station and possibly attend an identification parade. That pleases me no end, as this will definitely bring Victoria down a peg or two.

The fire engine eventually leaves and after I've thanked all the neighbours for their assistance, apologising to those who are now without plant pots and promising to replace the contents, the road slowly empties leaving me with a smoke damaged façade, wrecked stable doors and a blinding headache from smoke inhalation and stress. Alec's girlfriend has turned up while all this was happening and I end up having a late supper at his place then I go home and have to sleep in Jasper's room because my bedroom smells like a bonfire.

I wake the next morning to the sound of the telephone so I stagger into my own bedroom and pick up the receiver.

"Who the fuck is this," I mumble expecting it to be Jasper.

"It's your mother, Edward. You're lucky you're nearly fifty miles away or you'd be eating soap for breakfast and I don't care if you're nearly twenty-five."

"Sorry mum," I mutter. "I've had a bad night."

"Really," she replies in a sarcastic tone. "Well we've just had a very disturbing telephone call from Lady Victoria's father. Apparently she's been arrested and it's entirely your fault."

I wake up instantly then, like a bucket of ice cold water has just been dumped on me, and it's lucky that _my_ _mother_ is fifty miles away or I would have verbally blasted her into the next county.

"Mum, I want to speak to dad NOW! You've obviously jumped to conclusions about what happened last night without knowing what the hell's been going on, so I need to speak to someone with some common sense."

I hear her huff and after some shuffling about, dad comes on the phone. I don't want to stress him, but I'm in no mood to hold back from telling him the truth.

"What's going on, son?"

"Victoria set fire to the house last night when I was inside, dad. She'd tried to break in a few weeks ago and I chased her off, but I didn't realise it was her then because she'd disguised herself as a man. She poured petrol over and under the garage doors and set light to them but the neighbours and I managed to put the fire out before it spread to the house. The garage doors have been ruined and the front of my house and next doors will need repainting, but thankfully there's no structural damage. I saw her face clearly and she spoke to me before she ran off. She could've killed me or my neighbour which is why I reported her to the police."

"Christ, Edward. That's nothing like the story she told her father. She must be some sort of pyromaniac. She'll deny it of course."

"I know, but we caught her doing something similar at the party, didn't we? She's left a petrol can behind and the police have taken it away and are examining it for fingerprints. I've also given them the piece of metal she used to break in the first time, so with a bit of luck one of those will incriminate her."

"Okay Edward. I'll deal with the Earl, and your mother of course."

"Thanks dad, and I'm really sorry you've been stressed as soon as you've got home."

Dad laughs at that comment. "It would've been more stressful if you'd have been killed. When are you coming down to see me?"

"Soon, dad. I've got to finish this fu…. this bloody Enquiry first. I'm beginning to re-think my career; I don't think I can cope with any more shit like this anymore."

Dad chuckles again. "Okay, Edward. Don't be a stranger though; we need to do some serious catching up."

"Agreed, dad. I'll be down as soon as possible."

With that I hang up the phone and collapse on my stinky bed and mull over his last comment. Maybe he was re-thinking the 'cutting me off without a penny' statement he made when I went to work with Jenks. Only time would tell.

I've been staring at the ceiling for about ten minutes when I hear the front door opening and Jasper exclaiming, "What the hell?"

I fling on my dressing gown and wander downstairs expecting to find Jasper in the kitchen but he's nowhere to be seen. Instead, standing on her own by the breakfast bar, is a bright-eyed girl with short, dark hair and I instantly understand Jasper's description of her; this girl sparkles.

"Alice, I presume?"

"Yes, Edward I presume. Pleased to meet you," she replies and flashes the whitest teeth I've ever seen.

"Likewise," I reply politely. "Sorry about the mess outside. There was a bit of excitement here last night and I'm lucky to be alive. I'll tell you about it later, but I need coffee and a shower in that order, so if you'll excuse me."

While I percolate some coffee, Jasper comes in from outside where he's been inspecting the damage.

"Same guy?" he asks.

"Actually, same girl. It was Victoria."

"Shit!"

"The police have arrested her but I'll tell you more about it when I've had a shower."

I take my coffee upstairs and clean myself up but discover that most of the clothes I keep in my bedroom reek of smoke. Luckily I'm able to wear my biking jeans and one of the t-shirts that are still hanging in Jasper's wardrobe because, thankfully, I haven't got round to moving my weekend clothes yet. When I go back downstairs, Jasper has made a cracking breakfast of eggs, bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes and toast and more coffee, so after devouring mine and half of Alice's, I give them the whole story.

"So they've definitely arrested her?" Jasper says after I tell them what dad said on the phone.

"Apparently so. Her father's already been on to my parents and accused me of causing the problem in the first place, even though he must know dad's only just been released from hospital and is still quite ill. I'll have him for stressing dad like that, and I don't give a toss that he's an Earl. I've set dad straight though and he'll support me. I've got to go to the police station this morning and do a full statement which I'll thoroughly enjoy. Talking of enjoyment, I hope Victoria's enjoying prison food and pissing in a bucket by now."

Jasper chuckles at that and pushes the empty plates towards me, indicating that I'm doing the washing up.

"I'll get on to Harry's emergency crew and get them out here to temporarily fix the garage doors today."

"And I'll sort your clothes out, Edward," Alice offers with a grin. "I hate to say this since we've only just met, but even after your shower you still smell like a chimney."

"Thanks," I chuckle. "Do you know how to get rid of the smell of smoke out of clothes?"

"I'm sure I'll work it out," she replies. "Just point me to the washing machine and I'll get started."

I run upstairs and strip both beds and throw all the sheets and blankets down the stairs followed by all my washable clothes. When I come out the bedroom, Jasper is already on the phone talking to one of Harry's workforce and Alice is downstairs loading the washing machine. After I've finished washing the dishes, I find the emergency number for my insurance company but Jasper tells me to get along to the police station and he'll sort that out as well.

I've got great mates!

As I'm putting my jacket on and opening the front door to leave, I hear Alice call out to Jasper and she refers to him as 'Jaz'. Now I know why Bella didn't pick up on his name – another mystery solved.

As it's sunny and warm, I decide to walk to the police station which takes me about twenty minutes. The fresh Sunday morning air clears my thumping headache and I'm ready to answer any questions the police throw at me. Once in the station my fingerprints are taken to eliminate them from any that were found on the petrol can or the metal bar. They'd found prints on both items which could be useful if they matched Victoria's. The detective informed me that when her car was searched, they'd found a black balaclava hidden in the boot, with some gloves that reeked of oil or petrol and boxes of matches. As far as they were concerned that evidence corroborated my story which was why she was formally charged last night. They'd also found letters in her car from a private detective she'd hired to find me and follow my movements, which I admit shocked me, but also answered the mystery as to how she knew about my bikes and where I lived.

I ask the detective what the police have charged her with and he confirmed that she'd initially been charged with Arson. If they could prove that she knew I was in the house at the time, they could stretch it to attempted murder but that would be difficult to prove, especially as I'd been honest in my statement and said that the house would have been in darkness when she turned up because I'd fallen asleep on the sofa.

I then asked where she was being held and was surprised to learn she'd already been released on conditional bail, but would have to report to a police station every morning with her father or she'd be remanded in custody. She also had to hand in her passport and all other identification documents as part of her bail conditions. It was obvious that being the daughter of an Earl gave her certain privileges, but it also made her more likely to abscond as she was wealthy, and her family probably had friends all over the world who could hide her. The detective also told me confidentially that her father was in the same Masonic Lodge as the Chief Constable, so a lot of strings were being pulled to keep the story out of the newspapers for the time being, however the Earl was told that when Victoria goes to trial, or if she breaks her bail conditions, no amount of privilege would stop this becoming headline news.

I wander back home contemplating what had driven Victoria to act in this way and I come to the conclusion she must be mentally unstable. To hold that much bitterness for two years is unimaginable to me and it makes me wonder whether she had done this to any other men she'd had a relationship with. I think about the impending court case which would be embarrassing for all concerned if she pleads 'not guilty'. If I was her lawyer, I would certainly consider putting forward some sort of mental breakdown as a defence. Whatever, she needs professional help whether she receives it inside or outside of prison.

When I get back to the house at about two o'clock, Jasper is in the stable supervising the guys who are making the doors secure and Alice is still knee-deep in washing. I go upstairs and put clean sheets on both the beds and I'm just having a tidy up when the phone rings. I pick it up and it's my dad.

"Is Jasper with you," he asks, and I can tell by his voice that something is wrong.

"Yes," I reply. "What's happened?"

"It's Harry. His car was hit by a lorry as he was coming away from his club about half an hour ago. He's been rushed to St Mary's Hospital but it's not looking good. You need to get Jasper there fast."

"Shit! Okay…..I'll go now and call you when I get there."

I slam the phone down and run downstairs wondering how I'm going to break the news to Jasper but I know there's no time to be gentle.

"Jasper!" I yell as I hurtle out the front door. "Harry's been injured in a road accident. I'm getting Sadie. I'm taking you to the hospital now."

I don't stop to wait for Jasper's reaction as I can imagine what it will be. I just run down to Alec's and bang on his door as I need to get Sadie from his stable. Alec sticks his head out the top window and I shout up, "Emergency – I need a bike fast." Alec flings the keys at me and I open the stable and start Sadie up.

I ride her rather than push her back to the house and Jasper is standing outside with his arms around Alice. His face is ghostly-white and I guess that's how I must have looked when I got the call about my dad having a heart attack. I slow to let him jump on, then tear along the bumpy cobbles as fast as I can safely go. As soon as we're out onto the proper road surface, I speed up until we get to the High Street then turn without stopping into the traffic. I really accelerate then as I know the fastest way through the back-streets to get to St Mary's as it's near to where I'd lived prior to buying the mews.

We race through the fortunately quiet Sunday traffic at frankly dangerous speeds until I see the entrance to the Accident and Emergency department where I let Jasper off at the door. I ride Sadie to where the doctors park their cars and leave her where she can't be seen from the road, then run as fast as I can back to A&E.

I burst through the doors and go straight to the reception desk. "Harry Whitlock," I pant. "I've just dropped his son off. I'm his nephew."

"Down there," the receptionist responds quickly and points to my left so I run along the busy corridor not knowing where I'm going. In front of me is a sign saying 'Relatives Room' so I fling the door open to check whether he's in there before going any further then stop dead. I've found Aunt Charlotte and Jasper, but they're clinging to one another and both are sobbing, and I know without asking the question that I got Jasper here too late.

My blood runs cold and I start shaking violently as this could so easily have been me, mum and Rosie only a few weeks ago, but thanks to the skill of the medical team my father survived. Harry hadn't been so lucky and I knew I had to start making some calls.

I back out of the room silently and leave them to their grief.

* * *

 **Poor Jasper. This is going to have a massive impact on his life, and possibly Alice's.**

 **Edward has had a lucky escape from a vengeful Victoria, thank goodness. Quite a few of you guessed it was her trying to break-in before, so well done for reading my mind.**

FYI

The 1960's was a very dangerous time on the roads. **Seat belts** were hardly ever worn and people did drink and drive quite regularly and without guilt. There was no certain way of measuring whether you were unfit to drive, other than being unable to walk in a straight line in front of the policeman who stopped you. **Breathalysers** weren't introduced until 1967 which reduced the death toll immediately.

 **West Ham** really did win the FA Cup on this day in 1964. For your benefit, I watched quite a bit of the game on YouTube before writing this chapter, so the description of the order in which the goals were scored, including how the winning goal was scored, is completely accurate. Back then leather footballs were still in use, rather than the synthetic ones that are used now, which are much lighter in weight. If one of the leather ones hit your head, you certainly knew about it. A friend of mine lived in Poplar in the 1960's, and she told me about the parties in the East End that night - she was about twelve at the time.

 **Colour TV** didn't arrive in Britain until 1967 and even then only a few shows were made in colour. Imported shows from America were always in colour though. My dad wouldn't have a colour TV in the house until the 1970 Football World Cup, then all of a sudden it seemed like a good idea!

I'm sure every house in Britain has a jar of **Branston Pickle** in the cupboard. There is no better pickle in the world. It is impossible to describe, other than it is spicy, fruity and yummy - especially with cheese. If you watch the movie 'Bridget Jones' Diary', there's a scene where she's eating Branston Pickle straight from the jar. We've all done that when we're depressed - haven't we girls?

(English versus American)! Crisps = potato chips; Boot = trunk (car). I'm sure you all knew that?

 **Next chapter Bella has to make an instant decision which will affect not only her career, but whether she has a future with Edward. (Of course she's got a future with Edward - I'm only kidding)!**

Joan xx


	25. Chapter 25

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 24**

Monday 4th May 1964

 **Bella**

After a brilliant weekend, life returns to normal. Everyone on the bus is talking about the football match and the celebrations afterwards, and from what I'm overhearing it's obvious that the vast majority of drinking-age adults in Poplar woke up with a massive hangover on Sunday morning. As I journey into the City, I notice that the buildings and streets in the East End are still littered with the detritus left behind after the biggest party since the Coronation and I'm so glad I was part of it.

Garrett is in the Monday morning editor's meeting when I arrive at work, so I finish off some typing that was left over from Friday then tidy his office up which is always in a mess but still not nearly as bad as Johnson's. I have a bit of spare time before he appears with the notes from the meeting for me to type up as usual, so I think about my article for next week and the weeks after that. I've heard via Mike that Johnson is very pleased with my work so far and some new advertisers have been contacting him specifically asking for their adverts to be placed on or near to my page, which apparently is a good indication that my column will become a permanent feature.

I can see some of the editors coming out of the meeting so I go to the kitchenette and make coffee. Garrett doesn't appear for another ten minutes so I offer to make him another one when he comes through the door as the first one has gone cold. He tells me not to worry when he picks up his cup then walks into his office and closes his door without giving me his notes. He calls me in about fifteen minutes later and gives me some dictation but his voice is flat, as though his enthusiasm has been knocked out of him. He doesn't chat about the weekend either which is unusual.

The morning drags so I'm pleased to get out for a walk at lunchtime. I always hope to see Edward's book propped up against the window but it isn't there as usual, so I wander down to St Bride's church where the last of the spring flowers are starting to droop, which is exactly how I feel inside.

I've worked out where Edward is and what he's been doing for the past three weeks as the Enquiry has been covered by the national news. Edward's name has been mentioned occasionally, but there's no indication when the Enquiry will be coming to an end. I know I have to be patient, and the memory of his lips on mine has kept me going during the past three weeks, but I'm eagerly anticipating the chance to do it again.

At least Arrow witnessing me kissing Edward has had the desired effect, in that the creepy pervert hasn't bothered me again. I occasionally see him looking at me slyly, but he hasn't spoken or come near me since he cornered me in the photocopying room. I've overheard the occasional comment from other men when I walk past them and I've been ogled-at plenty of times, but nothing offensive enough to report to Garrett. I wonder whether Arrow told his colleagues that I'm going out with a lawyer. If he's seen where Edward works, he'll know I was telling the truth when I said my boyfriend specialised in employment law, which is possibly why the others haven't dared propositioning me.

Garrett isn't in his office when I get back from lunch and it's obvious something is going on, as there's a cloud hanging over the whole department for the rest of the afternoon. I wait until gone five-thirty for Garrett to return, but in the end I go home none the wiser. The whole situation has made me feel depressed and deflated after being enthusiastic about my work, but until I find out what's going on I'll just have to keep my head down and carry on doing as good a job as possible.

When I get home Mike is in the living room talking to dad, and for once they're not arguing. He gets up when he sees me and follows me up the stairs and into my bedroom and it's obvious he has something to tell me. At least he looks animated and I need some good news to cheer me up.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Couple of things," he replies excitedly and he's like a kid at Christmas. "My story about Ronnie Kray shagging a Peer of the Realm has been picked up by the Sunday Mirror. They're going to publish it in a couple of weeks' time but under an anonymous name for my safety. More importantly, I've got a big fat cheque and an interview with the chief editor out of it. Looks like I might get a job there."

"That's brilliant," I say and give him a hug. "You've worked so hard and risked a lot for this, so Wow!"

"I know, but its early days and nothing's certain yet. Anyway, Johnson wants to see you again on Saturday. I think he's going to expand your column and make it a pull-out section of the newspaper aimed at teenagers and young adults. The advertising revenue has gone through the roof. If he could extend it to four pages, the paper could earn a mint."

"Really?" I ask and I start running up and down on the spot with excitement at the thought that he might want to employ me full-time.

Mum was calling us that dinner was ready so I didn't have time to question Mike any further. My mind was in a whirl what to do if he actually offered me a job at the Advertiser. I loved working for Garrett, but this may be my golden opportunity to do something totally different with my life and I'd be a fool not to take it. Whatever, I knew my article this week would need to be the best one yet, so I race through my dinner then shoot upstairs and close the door.

I've already got in mind quite a few ideas for articles for the future, but decide to go with one that has been brewing in my mind ever since I'd had the 'getting-off' talk with Alice. I know it will be controversial, but I want to write about the lack of readily available information for teenagers and young adults to give them guidance about sex and relationships, over and above the basic biological facts which are taught in school. The fact that there's nothing out there other than pornographic magazines or dirty books is shameful in a modern society, so my article would put forward some suggestions on how to get around this. I know I can't make the article too 'X-Certificate' because it would never get past the censorship rules, but I could allude to certain aspects without (hopefully) offending anyone. I set-to at just after seven and manage to finish my first draft just after midnight and fall asleep with my mind buzzing and my wrist aching.

 **Tuesday 5th May 1964**

Garrett isn't in his office again when I arrive at work and I bump into Kate in the kitchenette.

"What's going on?" I ask in a low voice. She shrugs her shoulders and whispers, "Haven't got a clue. I know there's been a row of some sort and the Personnel people are involved, but none of the secretaries have any idea."

I wander back to my office and was tidying up _again_ when Garrett walks back in and his face is like thunder.

"Can you come into my office, Bella, and don't bother with a notebook."

My knees are trembling when I follow him in and when I sit down in my chair I feel sick.

"What's happened?" I ask, while nervously hoping that I haven't done anything wrong.

It's obvious Garrett is trying to control his temper and he takes a couple of deep breaths before replying.

"The department is being re-organised, Bella. All the editors are being moved around and being given new responsibilities. I'm being moved upstairs to a different section so one of the editors up there is coming down here, but that's not all."

Garrett drums his fingers on the desk and he's definitely fuming about something but I'm glad it's not anything I've done.

"I'm sorry, Bella, but that bitch in Personnel is not allowing me to take you with me. She says you're not experienced enough to go up to the top floor which is complete bollocks. I'm being allocated another secretary so you'll be working with someone else from next Monday. The other secretaries are getting moved around as well so it's nothing personal. At the moment I don't know who you'll be working with but I'm livid. Apparently you'll be told tomorrow morning at the same time as the other girls, so I hope you get someone decent. I'm still trying to make a case to keep you as we're a good team, but that bitch in Personnel is insistent that's not happening."

"Oh!" is the only word I can utter as I feel like crying.

Garrett gets up and paces around his office and he's like a caged lion.

"There's something going on and I don't know what it is, Bella. I'm sure that bastard, Arrow, is behind it as he's been smirking at me since Friday. I want to smash his face in, the slimy git."

"I hope I don't end up with him, Garrett," I almost sob.

"I hope so too; in fact I'll insist you don't. Anyway, don't be too upset. I've given Personnel a glowing reference for you so you can rest assured you'll get through your month's trial period."

"Thank you," I mutter, but I'm still concerned as Arrow isn't the only man who has leered at me since I started, so my future here depends on who I'm 'allocated' to. I just wish I'd had my interview with Johnson; then I could tell them to stuff their job if I didn't like who my new boss was going to be.

The rest of the day goes by really slowly. Garrett gives me quite a lot of work to do but my heart isn't in it. I have lunch with Kate in the tiny staff room as it's raining heavily outside and by the end of the day I'm feeling very depressed. In the evening I fine-tune my article once more and add some new ideas that had come to me during the day, but even though I'm exhausted, I can't get to sleep because I'm worried about who I'm going to be working for next week.

 **Wednesday 6th May 1964**

At ten o'clock the secretaries are called in to the boardroom to be given their new roles. Garrett comes with me but he stands with the editorial staff on one side of the table and his eyes are fixed on Arrow. Arrow's eyes are once again planted on my chest and I feel physically sick when he licks his lips and smirks at me.

Before the bitch from Personnel opens her mouth I guess what's coming.

"Miss Swan, you will be working for Mr Arrow as from Monday."

Before I have a chance to react, Garrett slams his fist on the boardroom table and spits, "Absolutely not," but before he has a chance to qualify his comment, I step forward and put my hand up to stop him saying any more.

"Thank you Mr Townshend, but I can fight my own battles."

There's a sharp intake of breath from the other secretaries and for a second I feel like Oliver Twist asking for more. I don't know where my bravery is coming from, but I'm determined to stand my ground, not just in front of Arrow and the other creepy editors, but in front of my secretarial colleagues who, apart from Kate, haven't got a backbone between them. I turn to the bitch from Personnel and look her straight in the eye.

"Ever since I walked up the stairs from the typing pool, _you_ and some of the other women up here have resented my presence on this floor. In your prejudiced minds I'm not good enough to be here because I'm just a lowly 'secondary modern' girl. _You_ arbitrarily tried to pay me less than the other girls because you said I wouldn't be able to meet their lofty standards, which I have, with flying colours. _Also_ , and probably more importantly for the other women who work here, you totally ignored a blatantly sexual remark at my interview when Mr Arrow said to _him_ , (I pointed to the other editor who was at my interview), that he was 'looking forward to putting his paws on my arse'. Mr Arrow also propositioned me in the photocopying room on my first day, and suggested it was my duty to be 'grateful' to him for getting this job. So, if you think I'm going to work for that disgusting creep, or any of the other creeps in this building, you have another think coming."

"How dare you," she hisses as she jumps out of her chair knocking it backwards onto the floor, but I don't give her a chance to respond any further.

"I dare, because my boyfriend's an employment lawyer and I know my rights. So either I carry on working for Mr Townshend, or you can stick your job where the sun doesn't shine."

I turn to the other secretaries who are all staring at me open-mouthed.

"Ladies, it's up to you now. It's not acceptable that some of these men take great pleasure out of making you feel uncomfortable _and_ they get away with it. You mustn't put up with their sexual innuendos or being ogled at or blackmailed any more. Record and report _everything,_ and if it doesn't stop, get on to the Union and do something about it. You've a right to be safe at work."

I turn back to the bitch who is ready to explode as her face is purple by now. Arrow is standing beside her and he's staring open-mouthed at my face now rather than my chest.

"So," I challenge her. "What's it to be?"

"Miss Swan, you'll be working for Mr Arrow from Monday morning or you can leave."

"Right, I'm leaving, which is what you wanted all along, isn't it? Just admit it to everyone here; you've only reorganised the secretaries to get rid of the secondary modern girl who's polluting the atmosphere. I'm a competent secretary according to Garrett, so you couldn't get rid of me that way, but you knew I'd refuse to work with a sexual predator so that's your way of getting shot of me."

I turn to the secretaries who are definitely in a state of shock.

"So, you heard that, Ladies? You've seen how we're supported and protected by management. That woman expects me to work with a man who has made blatant sexual remarks at me and who expects me to give him sexual favours in return for staying employed, so in my mind she's knowingly putting me at risk of sexual assault. Now _you_ can decide whether you're willing to put up with that; _you_ can decide whether you can work with that man, but I'm not staying here to be pawed over or leered at by a creep, and a married creep at that. I might be a secondary modern girl, but I have higher morals and standards than any of you who think that's acceptable. _I don't_ , and I'm not prepared to compromise."

I walk towards the door then turn to give them my final shot.

"Goodbye, Garrett. I've really enjoyed working with you. You're a gentleman amongst a group of sexually frustrated perverts."

Then I turn to the bitch who by now is dribbling with rage through her tightly pinched lips.

"You owe me a week and half's money by the way, and if you think you can get away without paying me, my lawyer boyfriend will be down on you like a ton of bricks."

I waltz out the door and slam it shut behind me, but before I get more than four steps away from the boardroom, I hear the girls break out into loud cheers and there's a lot of clapping and banging on the table. Then the door opens and Kate comes running after me. She flings her arms around me and gives me a hug.

"Thanks for sticking up for us, Bella. I'm really sorry you're leaving but you won't be forgotten. That bitch had it coming to her and so did Arrow and the other creeps."

"Thanks Kate," I reply. "I'm sorry to be going as well, but only because of you and Garrett. That bitch didn't want me up here, which is what this change-around is all about don't you see, so she's won in a way. To be honest though, this job wasn't for me. I need to do something different, and sometimes you have to take some chances in life."

"Absolutely. You'll keep in touch though and let me know what you decide to do. You're a trail-blazer, Bella Swan, and you're going to go far. Good Luck."

"I'll keep in touch somehow, and thanks, Kate," I reply and give her a final hug before she returns to the boardroom where there's plenty of raised voices coming through the crack in the door.

I quickly walk to my office and collect my coat and some personal items from my desk. As I leave the room I don't look back, but carry on walking with my head held high until I get to the stairs. I make my way down carefully because my legs have started to shake and I guess it's adrenalin spreading through my veins. As I pass the typing pool I try to stop myself looking in, but I can't resist glancing at the girls wired up to their Dictaphones, silently bashing away on their ancient typewriters, and I wonder why I wasted nearly two years of my life in that dismal room.

I proudly walk through the foyer feeling like a million dollars and then out through the Express doorway for the last time, which is when reality hits me like a slap in the face.

I may have been exceptionally brave up there, but now I'm unemployed for the first time since I left school when I was sixteen and that thought brings me to my senses and I suddenly panic. But worst of all, as my eyes automatically look at Edward's empty window, I realise that I've stupidly blown my chances of ever seeing him again because tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that when the Enquiry is finally over, I won't be here to meet him for lunch, unless I come back to Fleet Street just for that purpose which would be ridiculously forward of me.

"You stupid, stupid girl," I admonish myself as I wonder what the hell I'm going to do next.

* * *

 **Edward**

 **Monday 4th May 1964**

I was back at the Enquiry for what was hopefully the last few days of this interminable waste of time and public money. I was ready to present the winding-up statement for my Union based on what had been said over the previous weeks, but what really annoyed me was that I could have written this statement before I set foot in the Enquiry as nothing new had been learned or uncovered during this marathon, and the waste of what would be nearly four weeks of my life when it ended was irritating as hell.

As I half-listened to the statement of one of the other Unions, I reflected on the disastrous weekend and the effect it would have on my family.

Harry was dead; in fact he must have been dead before he got to the hospital. I learned from the police that he had apparently driven through a red traffic light straight into the path of a lorry, consequently one side of his head had been crushed beyond recognition. There was no doubt he was blind drunk when it happened, as he was travelling back from his Club in Pall Mall where he was well known for insisting on driving home, even when he couldn't stand unaided. Every Sunday he would get there at just after eleven to read the newspapers in the smoking room while knocking back a selection of his favourite tipples. Then, after drinking solidly from about half past eleven until two, he would drive his Jaguar the short distance to his and Charlotte's apartment in Park Lane for lunch. It was inevitable therefore this was going to happen eventually; the only blessing being he managed to just kill himself and not take anyone else with him at the same time.

Jasper had the unenviable task of identifying Harry's body. I saw him afterwards and he couldn't speak for a while as the shock caused him to throw up after he had done the deed. When he recovered, he took his mother home from the hospital and called me later to say he wouldn't be back to the mews for a while. Alice had disappeared by the time I got home but had left a note in the kitchen to say her father had picked her up in his car. She had also left her telephone number and added she was sorry our first meeting was tainted with sadness.

I went upstairs to get changed and found she had hung all my suits in Jasper's room next to an open window to air and all the washed shirts were on hangers on a line she'd rigged up over the bath so they could dry easily, plus she'd wiped all the windows and furniture in the rooms above the stable to get the smell of the smoke away. I made a mental note to tell Jasper that this girl is a keeper.

I called my parents to say I was back home and Jasper was with Charlotte. I'd phoned them from the hospital to tell them that Harry was no more, but didn't go into any details as they were pretty horrific. Mum was in a terrible state but dad was philosophical like me and was relieved Charlotte hadn't been in the car with him. He pointed out that Harry was a very rich man, and it would be interesting to find out what was in his Will. Technically Jasper wasn't his son, even though Harry's name was on his birth certificate, but that anomaly was something that would be sorted in the future if the Will was ambiguous.

The fire and Victoria's role in it hadn't reached the newspapers, so I could file that problem away for the moment. I was glad about that as I didn't want my name in the papers either, as the scandal sheets would associate me, The Hon. Edward Cullen, 'the son of the Master of the Rolls', with 'the woman scorned' story, which might reach Bella's eyes. When my name was mentioned in relation to the Enquiry, the broadsheets didn't bother referring to me other than 'Mr. Cullen, legal representative of the Electricians' Union'.

I was desperate to see Bella again and hoped Thursday would be the day I could put my book back in the window. I wondered how she was getting on with her new job and whether she'd had to bat away any more lecherous excuses for men. I hoped in my lifetime there'd be laws against behaviour of that sort, but until then women had to put up with being objectified in the workplace. But as long as it was the same lecherous old men defining the laws of the land, the changes would be a long time coming.

As I look at my summary notes, I figure there are two more days of this nightmare to endure then life could get back to normal, whatever 'normal life' was. The temptation to walk away from 'normal' had never been so strong in me these past few weeks as I'd seriously reconsidered my situation during the Enquiry. I would think about the adventures Jasper had experienced compared to my boring life. Okay, I've got Tara and Sadie and I'm a part-time Rocker, but that's nothing compared to what he got up to on his travels. I'd become an old man before my time. I'm twenty-five in nine days' time but I might as well be fifty-five.

Jasper also has Alice, and when I saw him with his arms wrapped around her I realised that was something else I was missing out on, and it wasn't sex. I worked out when I'd last had sex with Tanya and it was the weekend before Easter which was over five weeks ago, but I wasn't missing it. What I was craving was nothing more than love and affection. I wanted to feel a girl's arms around me giving me a hug. I wanted to feel soft lips on my mouth and neck and to feel her fingers buried in my hair. I wanted someone to cuddle up to on the sofa after work and to fall asleep at night with. I wanted someone to call me darling, or baby, or….

I feel a nudge in my ribs. It's one of the Union reps and he's giving me a funny look.

"Are you okay?" he whispers.

"Yes, I'm fine," I whisper back. "Bit of a shit weekend, I've hardly slept."

"Right, well you're up next so good luck."

I gather my papers together and have a long drink of water. This is the home stretch at last and I can see the finishing line ahead of me. Thank Christ for that.

* * *

 **Bella**

I walk down the Express steps for the last time and make the decision not to go home straight away but to catch the bus to Alice's college. Even though I love talking things over with mum, I need to talk to Alice and tell her what's happened, because sometimes you just have to speak to someone your own age who's on your own wavelength. Anyway, mum would be at the school now preparing hundreds of kid's lunches, so there's no point going home to an empty house.

Alice was now fully aware I'd got a secretaries job. Once I felt secure working for Garrett and was confident I'd get through my trial period, I'd told her about my promotion. She was really pleased for me of course, but she lectured me on concentrating on my articles for the Advertiser rather than being a secretary, as this was where she 'saw' my future. She'd read everything I'd written of course and in her opinion I was really talented, but the last time I spoke to her about it I still wasn't sure whether my column was going to be a permanent fixture on the paper. I was feeling a bit more confident about that now.

I'd also told her my fantasy boyfriend wasn't around for a while which stopped her badgering me for information, especially after I told her about the impromptu 'kiss', which she thought was priceless. I'll have to get her advice about whether I should loiter around his office once I know the Enquiry is over, or whether it would be too presumptuous of me. I shiver when I think I may not see him again as that situation is too depressing to contemplate at the moment.

The lady on the college reception desk presumes I'm one of Alice's guinea pigs and I'm there to get my hair, nails or feet done, so she directs me to one of the training salons on the top floor. It's nearly midday by now so I'm hoping to catch Alice before she disappears for her lunch break.

I find her in the hairdressing section perming an old lady's hair. The local residents come in to be practised on for a fraction of the cost of a proper salon, so the college is never short of willing volunteers. She looks surprised when she spots me coming through the door then points to a waiting area where there are some battered old plastic chairs and a pile of dog-eared women's magazines scattered across a glass coffee table. All of them have a picture of either the Queen or Princess Margaret on the front and I know they'll be full of knitting patterns and recipes so I don't bother looking through any of them.

I wait for about ten minutes and watch Alice as she finishes rollering the old lady's hair. She fixes a bright pink hairnet over the top then pops her under the dryer with a couple of the magazines. After she's put all the perming solution away, she pulls her gloves off then comes over to me with an enquiring look on her face.

"Why aren't you at work?" she asks.

"I quit," I reply defiantly as I don't want her to suspect I'm starting to regret my decision, but only because of the Edward situation. "They were going to make me work for a disgusting pervert," I clarify, "so I told them to stick their job. Now I'm unemployed, apart from what I get from the Advertiser."

"Crikey!" she exclaims. "Look, I'll be another twenty minutes or so. You can either sit here and wait for me, or go to the canteen and get a coffee. I need to talk to you too. You won't believe what's happened to me either."

I decide to go to the canteen as the smell of perm solution and hair spray is making me feel dizzy. I'm amazed Alice puts up with it, as she's very quick to complain if someone's wearing a perfume or aftershave she doesn't like, so she must shut her mind to it while she's here.

I buy myself a tea because it's tuppence cheaper than coffee and probably more drinkable, then people-watch until Alice appears. The canteen is full of students of all ages and I'm surprised at this because I presumed the college would be full of kids of mine and Alice's age, but it's plain that many adults are using the college to re-train or to improve their skills for the modern workplace. I figure this could be the source for another article and I could pitch it towards young people who are desperately unhappy at work because they panicked when they left school and got the first job that came along; a bit like me really. I could start it off by asking whether they felt trapped in a dead-end job, then list the ways they could re-train and get the qualifications to better themselves. I make a mental note to ask the receptionist on the way out for a list of courses they offered and whether there was any cost involved.

Alice eventually appears and after I've told her about the bust up in the boardroom, I get a 'high-five' from Alice, which is an action she's learned from Jaz. She told me that Jaz's dad was killed in a car crash on Sunday afternoon and she hasn't seen him since. He's called her every evening but he won't be around for a while because there's lots to sort out and arrange, but he would see her after the funeral.

"That's terrible," I respond sympathetically. "Did you meet his dad?"

"No, I've never been to Jaz's family home, but I did go to his cousin's house on Sunday afternoon which is just before it happened. That's where Jaz is living now, remember?"

I nodded in affirmation as Alice continued.

"He'd had a fire so Jaz and I helped him clean up and I did a load of his washing because it all stunk of smoke. Some mad ex-girlfriend of his tried to set light to his garage the night before. Luckily he was in and caught her in the act. He's a really nice guy, even though I suspect he might be a Rocker. Jaz told me he's got a couple of really tasty motorbikes and I saw one of them when he took Jaz to the hospital. I did see his leathers as well as I was looking for hangers in Jasper's room to hang his washing up. You should meet him; he's very good-looking as well."

"No thanks," I reply automatically as I'm hoping that somehow I'm going to get to see Edward again. He's the only man and the only Rocker I want, but I've probably blown my chances with him because I'm an impetuous big-mouth.

"That's not all," Alice gushes. "Jaz never talks about his family, but I do know his surname is Whitlock. Anyway, on Monday I was reading dad's newspaper in the evening and on the front page was a story about some building magnate called Harold Whitlock who was killed in a car crash in London and they mentioned his wife Charlotte, who's the daughter of some member of the aristocracy. The paper mentioned they had a son but didn't name him. I can't believe that two people with the Whitlock surname were killed in a car crash on Sunday, which means that Jaz is a bit posher than what he makes out to be, not that that bothers me or anything."

"Wow!" I exclaim. "I thought there was something about him. Are you going to say anything?"

Alice mulled this over for a few seconds. "I don't know. I think I'll give him the chance to tell me first, but I probably will mention it eventually. He knows I love him for himself, not who or where he's come from."

"Do you really love him?"

"Yes, I really really do. I think he really loves me too. I can't imagine life without him now."

"You're very lucky," I reply enviously.

"So, enough about me. What are you going to do about getting a job?"

"I don't know. I'm seeing the guy from the Advertiser on Saturday, so maybe he can offer me some more work. I can't manage on what he gives me for my article so I'll have to find another job somewhere, but I'm not going back to a typing pool."

"Good for you; you're worth more than that. What about your nice lawyer; you haven't mentioned him lately?"

"I haven't seen him for ages. He's tied up with some enquiry at the moment. I don't know whether I'll ever see him again though, now I don't work in Fleet Street anymore."

"That's a shame," Alice replies sympathetically and then she grins. "I'll have to organise a double-date with Jaz's cousin then."

"Absolutely not," I insist. "I haven't given up on my lawyer yet. I might pluck up the courage to try and see him one day. Just give me a few weeks to sort myself out."

Alice has to get back to the salon so I get the bus and wander home. Mum had just got in from the school and was surprised to see me in the middle of the afternoon but she's very supportive when I tell her an abridged version of what happened. I hadn't ever mentioned to her what Arrow had said to me at my interview or in the photocopying room; I just told her my new boss was a bit of a creep and I wouldn't feel comfortable working for him. There's no way I wanted dad to find out the real reason I left, as I suspect he would threaten to go up there and 'sort Arrow out', which was the last thing I wanted.

When Mike gets home he's incensed when I tell him truthfully what happened. When he's calmed down I give him my finished article about 'sex' to read and even though he's a bit shocked about the subject matter, he thinks it's great. After dinner he bangs on my bedroom door and comes in.

"I've got an idea," he says. "Why don't you come into work with me tomorrow and give Johnson the article yourself? It's quite controversial so if he decides it needs altering, you can do it in the office on the spot."

"That's a great idea," I reply enthusiastically. "I'm a bit worried about how he'll take it to be honest, but that would solve the problem if he thought it was too….raunchy."

Mike laughs at that word. "You've really grown up a lot in the last few months, haven't you Bells?"

"Yep, I suppose I have. I'm a bit late to this party but I'm getting there."

"I'm really proud of you, especially for what you did at the Express today. By the way, that sort of behaviour isn't tolerated at the Advertiser, so don't be concerned about being among our lot. They're all nice guys."

"Thanks," I reply. "That's a relief."

During the evening I go through a week's-worth of old newspapers piled up by the back door ready to go in the dustbin. I find Monday's Evening News, and on the front page is a report on Harold Whitlock's accident. I realise this must be a different newspaper from the one that Alice read as it mentions he was married to Charlotte Masen, and they have one son called Jasper. The name Jasper rings a bell in my head as I've heard the name recently but can't remember where, but it couldn't have been that important. Jaz-Jasper; I don't blame him for changing it to Jaz as Jasper really is a pretentious name.

I go to bed with my head buzzing with all the things that have been happening to me, but my main worry is whether I have the courage to go back to Fleet Street to meet up with Edward. The thought of never seeing him again is becoming too much to bear, and in the darkness of my room I cry and cry and cry.

* * *

 **I'd be crying too. What should she do? Nowadays I'm sure she would loiter around his building or even march in there and ask him out on a date. Back in the 60's, the guys always took the lead. Very frustrating for her.**

 **Maybe she should just have a blind-date with Jaz's Rocker cousin! (I'm not going there BTW).**

FYI

Not much this week, but the Sunday Mirror really did publish an article about Ronnie Kray and the Tory Peer. It caused a sensation back then, but not as big as the Profumo affair, which was a couple of years earlier (look it up, it's fascinating).

 **Next chapter, Edward returns to the office after the Enquiry, but of course there's no Bella around. He also gets his leathers back on (fans self) and goes back to the Ace where Emmett has a big surprise waiting for him.**

Joan xx


	26. Chapter 26

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 25**

Thursday 7th May 1964

 **Edward**

Margaret greets me like a long-lost son when I walk through the door, and also with the good news that her mother has been offered a place in a very pleasant nursing home, so I'm delighted for her. Also, Simon's wife finally produced a healthy baby boy on Saturday, so he wouldn't be in until Monday as wife and child were coming out of hospital today. Of course he could have attended the Enquiry after all, but there's no point in me being angry about it anymore as it's all behind me now and Simon owes me big-time.

The first thing I do when I get to my office is to place the book in the window and keep watch for Bella's bus. Margaret has made me tea as usual so I stand by the window sipping it as her bus pulls up at the stop. I'm getting ready to wave to her as the bus pulls away but there's no Bella on the pavement. A few minutes later another bus arrives, so I watch the people getting off that too. Still no Bella which confuses and irritates me. "Maybe she came in early," I say to myself, but I carry on watching the buses until well after nine.

At just before twelve-thirty I grab my coat as the weather is quite chilly for May and go downstairs. I manage to avoid getting delayed by Jane so I'm outside on the pavement when the typing pool girls start spilling out onto the steps. I can feel myself getting excited at the prospect of seeing her for the first time in weeks, and as the minutes tick by I'm almost hyperventilating. While I'm waiting, I work out how I'm going to ask her out on a date and where I'm going to take her; that's if she agrees to go out with me of course which I'm sure she will.

I check my watch and it's already a quarter to one. She still hasn't appeared so I start going over some of the possible reasons why in my head. She could be sick, she could have changed her lunchtime, she could be avoiding me, she could have just stayed indoors today because it's cold, or a hundred other reasons. At five past one I give up and go back to my office feeling totally miserable and frustrated. I've been looking forward to seeing her for weeks and now I feel like the kid who's been promised a treat for being good, only to be told he can't have it after all.

The afternoon drags but as soon as it gets near to five-thirty I stand in front of the window again, determined to see her when she comes out. The clock hits the half-hour but she doesn't appear and after another fifteen minutes I'm convinced she wasn't at work today. In a way this makes me feel better as I was starting to imagine she was trying to avoid me, and then I wonder why she wasn't at work; maybe she was unwell after all.

I sit at home on my own in the evening, silently stewing over the fact that I didn't see her. I'm tempted to call Jasper and find out where she lives and just go round there, but he's still looking after his mother who apparently has gone to pieces, and it would be wrong of me to distract him over something so frivolous. At least I've finally decided that as soon as I clamp eyes on Bella again, even if it's when she's getting off the bus tomorrow morning, I'm asking her out on a date. I've waited long enough and I'm not missing out on any more opportunities.

 **Friday 8th May 1964**

Friday comes and goes the same way. I made sure I was at work extra-early so I wouldn't miss her, but every bus departs without leaving her on the pavement and now I'm wondering what the hell has happened to her. I still can't bring myself to bother Jasper at this time, or even ask Alice if she's sick or something. I've got Alice's telephone number somewhere but I can't just phone her out of the blue. Firstly, neither of them have any idea I know Bella. Secondly, Jasper has enough on his plate as I heard from dad that Harry's Will is being read today. Also, I've only met Alice once so she hardly knows me. The funeral is taking place on Monday so I'm having to take the day off for that, so it will be Tuesday at the earliest before I see her again. I feel like a junkie being deprived of a fix and it's bloody horrible.

I decide to go to the Ace tonight as I know I'll spend the evening drinking whiskey if I end up being on my own. I call Emmett before I leave to check whether he's going as well. He says he'll meet me there, but warns me he'll be tied up for the rest of the weekend and he'll tell me why later on. This means I'll have to come home to an empty house tonight which pisses me off even more. I toy over surprising my parents and riding down to Haslemere sometime over the weekend, especially as dad asked me when I was coming down to see him, but decide to make my mind up on Saturday morning. Then I remember they'll be coming up for the funeral on Monday anyway so it probably isn't worth bothering.

I wander half-heartedly into Jasper's room and get my leathers and a plain, white t-shirt out of his wardrobe. I strip off my work clothes and wriggle into my usually skin-tight-on-the-thighs trousers but they feel much looser than the last time I wore them. I walk over to the mirror and stare at myself critically in the glass. "Have I lost weight lately?" I'm asking myself as I stare at my reflection. I walk closer to the mirror and examine my face and come to the conclusion that I look haggard. My skin is grey, which is probably due to hardly seeing the light of day because of being at the sodding Enquiry for weeks, and my cheeks look like I'm purposely sucking them in.

I've no idea how much I weigh, but there's no doubt I've dropped some pounds. I've had the stress of the Enquiry, Harry's death, the fire, no Bella, plus (and probably most importantly), I haven't had Margaret fussing over me for the past four weeks, feeding me chocolate biscuits every five minutes, so it's no wonder I've lost weight.

I tuck the t-shirt into the top of the trousers then put another one over the top to bulk myself out a bit, then put my jacket on. I glance at the leather cuff and thick silver chain I usually wear when I'm riding and take the adult decision never to wear them again as I realise they make me look like a prat. I scoff and say out loud to my reflection in the mirror, "have you _really_ been trying to look like James Dean all this time, you arse?" Then I mutter, "Shit! I'm thinking and sounding like a grown-up now," as I pull my boots on by the door then go out to the stable.

I take Tara out for a change tonight as I don't want to have to concentrate too hard on the ride. For a couple of minutes I hit eighty on a straight section of the dual carriageway, which is fast enough for me as I can hear my dad's voice in my subconscious asking me to be careful. The road surface is still wet after a heavy shower earlier in the evening and I'm not prepared to take any chances. I pull into the Ace after an uneventful ride, still feeling totally fed-up, but as soon as I walk through the door I'm greeted for the second time in two days like a long-lost son. This raises my spirits for a brief moment, until I spot a very red-faced Emmett who's already there and he's sitting next to a gorgeous looking girl with long curly blonde hair. It takes me about three very confused seconds to recognise who she is because she's the last person I'd expect to see in the Ace Cafe.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I almost yell at her.

"That's not a very nice way to greet your sister," she replies smugly and then starts giggling.

I know without asking why Emmett is as red as a beetroot and I feel totally stupid as I've obviously been kept in the dark about this.

"What the hell's going on, Emmett. Are you dating my Rosie?"

"Yes he is, and I'm not _your_ Rosie," she replies for him. "And don't blame Emmett; _I_ invited him to come to one of my CND meetings because _you_ told me he was a pacifist. I've been looking for new recruits for the cause and the rest, as you often say, is history."

"How long has this been going on?" I ask Emmett directly and I put my hand up to stop Rosie replying.

"A couple of weeks, Eddie," Emmett replies sheepishly.

My brain starts working as I'm calculating in my head whether that's long enough for Emmett to introduce my sister to his dick. I decide it isn't, so I calm myself somewhat.

Emmett continues explaining himself warily, even though he's twice the size of me and could beat me to a pulp if I start trying to defend Rosie's honour.

"You gave Rosie Carol's phone number when your dad was ill, so she called me at home and told me about the meeting. I went along to see what it was all about and we…clicked."

I notice that all the other guys are grinning while they're listening to Emmett as his story unfolds, and some of them are practically biting their fists to stop themselves from laughing. I'm not stupid; they've all guessed what my concerns are. How they are managing to hold it together in front of Emmett is a miracle.

I give Emmett one of my hard stares. "You and me, Emmett. We're having a long talk about this and you know where I'm coming from, don't you?"

Emmett nods his head and looks embarrassed and Rosie glares at me furiously.

"Don't you interfere with my life, Edward-Eddie, whatever you call yourself here. I'm a big girl now and can look after myself."

"I know you _think_ you're a big girl, Rosie," I respond angrily, "but maybe you're not quite big enough just yet."

As those words leave my mouth I realise what I've said and the guys totally lose it. Over twenty hardened Rockers plus Tanya, and about a dozen Hells Angels howl with laughter and in the end I have to join in. Rosie is looking utterly bewildered by now, which totally convinces me she's completely unaware of what Emmett is hiding in his shorts and I relax then. I'm definitely going to have words with Emmett about the dick situation, but even I have to accept it will be Rosie's call in the end.

We have a thoroughly enjoyable evening after we've all calmed down and I realise it's just what I needed to dislodge the concentrated crap that's been clogging my brain through having to sit through that bloody Enquiry for eternity. It's also a distraction from all the other shit that's going on in my life, especially the frustration of not seeing Bella.

Rosie is amazing and I'm really proud of her. She listens to all the hair-raising stories about what we get up to on our bikes and isn't the slightest bit judgemental. She relates some stories about herself and some of the antics she got up to at university and I discover another side to her that I've never seen before.

It's easy to see that Emmett is totally smitten. He's been quiet all evening and can't take his eyes off her. Then I notice that all the other guys are staring at her longingly; even the married ones. I've always been aware that Rosie is stunningly attractive, both in looks and personality, but it's only now when I see desire, not just in Emmett's eyes but in all the other guys' eyes as well, that I can truly appreciate how beautiful she really is, and I'm stunned it's taken me this long to see my sister in this way.

I recall imagining that I couldn't wish for a better brother-in-law than Emmett, even though it's too early to be thinking along those lines just yet. However I can imagine Rosie bringing him home to the family estate and the fuss this would cause. He's an American, and an admitted draft-dodger, but then I recall dad's hospital declaration that he'd be happy whoever we choose as partners. I may have to remind him of that sooner rather than later, and not just on Rosie's behalf.

When it's time to leave, I give Rosie a brotherly hug and warn Emmett to be careful with my sister on his pillion. I'm relieved to see she's purchased a top quality crash helmet and Emmett is wearing one for the first time as well. When she confidently slides onto the seat behind him then wraps her arms around his waist and gives him a playful squeeze, I just know without question they'll be together for life. I can't think of a more well-matched pair and as they disappear out of sight I suddenly feel quite emotional.

I'm delighted for Rosie and Emmett, but my joy is mixed with a touch of envy as I accept they now have the one thing that's missing from my life. Whether Bella is exactly what I'm looking for I can't be sure, but what I _do_ know is that I need to see her again and find out if we have a future together. Until then I know I'll never be happy. As Bella so rightly declared in the garden of St Bride's church, all she wants is to be happy; which is now what my number one goal in life is too.

* * *

 **Bella**

Mike and I travel to the Advertiser together and I admit to feeling slightly nervous walking into the building with him. The open plan office is buzzing with activity, which is totally different from the quiet Saturday morning at the beginning of April when I came here for the first time and made my way through the maze of deserted desks and scattered chairs.

I'm no more than two steps into the office when I'm instantly aware of an acrid smell of cigarettes hanging in the air. I notice there's a yellow haze hovering under the nicotine-stained ceiling and I realise straight away that it's trapped smoke from cigarettes which are either hanging out of the mouths of practically every person I see, or from burning fag-ends balancing on ashtrays on their untidy desks.

"Oh Jesus!" I exclaim to Mike as I put my hand over my nose and mouth.

"Welcome to the Jungle," he laughs, and then explains it's the nine o'clock puff, when everyone comes in and has their first fag of the day at the same time. He promises me the air will clear shortly but I'm not convinced.

Johnson spots us walking through the usual obstacle course of chairs and tables, and beckons us to come in. His feet are on his desk as before and his office is in an even worse state than when I first entered his domain, with paperwork covering every flat surface and all over the floor this time.

"Bella!" he exclaims and he looks genuinely pleased to see me. "Why isn't my favourite person in the world bashing her typewriter at the Express may I ask?"

"I quit," I reply as there's no point beating about the bush. "I was given the choice of working for a pervert or leaving, so I walked out yesterday."

Johnson barks out a laugh and lights a cigarette from the burning embers of his previous one. "That's my girl. Men like that should have their private parts nailed to a bench then their dicks beaten with a cricket bat until it looks like Porterhouse steak."

I can see Mike wincing at that image so I change the subject quickly.

"Here's my article for this week, Johnson. It's a bit…ummm...controversial, so if you'd like me to amend it before the run I'll find a corner somewhere and make any alterations on the spot, or write something totally different if you think it's too risqué."

I hand the pages over to him after which he pulls his feet off the desk and sits up. When he reads the first line his eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling and they remain there for the next ten minutes.

I must admit as soon as I give him the pages I feel nervous, as I've no idea how he's going to respond, or what he's going to think of me as a person for writing this type of article. I try to pick up his reaction from the expressions on his face, but it remains fixed as his eyes skim across every line.

To his credit he reads every word before commenting and he doesn't take another puff of his cigarette until he places the pages on his desk. He contemplates what he's just absorbed then stubs out his now spent cigarette and immediately lights another one.

"Have you read this, Mike?" he asks.

"Yep!" is Mike succinct reply and he smirks like a naughty schoolboy.

"What do you think then?"

"Well, it's a bit of an eye-opener to be honest. I mean boys have lad's mags, but there's nothing similar out there for girls at the moment. It's either teen magazines like 'Jackie' or boring housewife magazines that tell you how to knit a royal corgi. There's no information out there for girls who are becoming sexually aware, unless they read dirty novels that dodge the censors."

"So there's a gap in the market you're saying."

"No, _I'm_ saying," I cut in. "Are you guys ignoring me, because I'll piss off home if that's the case."

Johnson doesn't flinch when I swear and replies quite calmly.

"No I'm not ignoring you, Bella. I'm using Mike as a sounding board. I have to check that your facts are correct before I print them. If what you're saying is true, that there's absolutely nothing out there teenage girls and young women can read to find out about sex and orgasms and all the other stuff you've written about, then your article holds weight."

"So how would Mike know, Johnson? I've never seen him reading girls' magazines or romantic novels. Our mum buys Woman's Own occasionally but there's nothing racy in these sorts of magazines unless you count middle-aged, frustrated housewives swooning over Dr Kildare. Biology lessons at school don't go further than showing which bit goes where then explaining how that makes a baby. So if you don't have a liberated mother, or a friend who's in the know about female orgasms, on your wedding night a girl might as well lie back and think of England."

Mike went to say something but I was on a roll now.

"Mike, you're nearly twenty. Tell me honestly, did you know that women have orgasms?"

Mike goes bright red.

"Come on, it's not a difficult question."

"Until I read your article, no I didn't. It was a bit of a shock to be perfectly honest."

"What about you, Johnson?"

"Yes, I knew, but it's a taboo subject I suppose."

"Exactly, and the reason it's taboo and not generally discussed, is that women don't need to have an orgasm to satisfy a man; they don't need to have an orgasm to get pregnant; but most importantly, if women don't know what they're missing, men can get off then roll over and go to sleep feeling smug."

"Jesus!" Mike exclaims.

Johnson coughs after taking a long drag of his cigarette then balances it on his ashtray.

"So what you're implying is that it's a male conspiracy to keep women in the dark about this."

"No, I don't think it goes anywhere near as deep as that. I'm just saying that the traditional idea of a woman just being there for a man's pleasure is old-fashioned and wrong. It's not the guy's fault either. If they don't know about this and consequently what to do, you can't blame them for not doing it, if you see what I mean. Boys as well as girls need educating about women's bodies and vice versa, but until there's a source of information other than porn magazines, nothing's going to change."

"She's right," Mike said in support. "To be honest, I wouldn't have a clue what to do or where to find out what to do. Bloody hell, I'm going to be lying awake all night worrying about this."

Johnson chuckles and picks up the article again and I can see him thinking about it.

"Your article is great, Bella, but I think parts of it are slightly too graphic for our readers at the moment. I'll read it again and make some alterations but I'm happy to run with it."

"Thanks," I reply and get up to go.

"Hang on, Bella. I'd planned on speaking to you on Saturday anyway, but now you're here I might as well tell you now. The owners of the paper want to expand your section to a four-page spread aimed at older teenagers and young adults. We're being inundated by new advertisers wanting to put their adverts on your page, so it's a logical step."

"Really?" I gasp. "That's amazing."

Johnson continues.

"Obviously I didn't know when I spoke to the owners that you'd be available when they asked me to recruit someone to co-ordinate it, but now you're here and I would guess looking for a job, how would you feel about working alongside one of our existing editors until you get more experience and then you could take over?"

"Are you serious?" I reply excitedly. "I'm totally inexperienced and unqualified, Johnson. I've only ever worked in a typing pool and been a secretary for about three weeks. What would the other guys say if I just waltzed in off the street and was given that sort of responsibility?"

"They'd say 'Welcome, Bella'. They'd say 'Good Luck, Bella'. They'd say 'Do you need any help with anything, Bella?' We're not the Express, thank God, so there's no rivalry between sections. We all work together for the good of the paper. We don't have any perverts here either, apart from me that is, so hopefully that will put your mind at rest. You're a brilliant, natural writer, Bella, and they know that already. You've got here on your own merit."

It was my turn to laugh now and it was with relief mixed with disbelief that I'd been offered this fantastic opportunity. It was also with relief when I realised I wouldn't have to deal with lecherous old men anymore. But, most importantly, it was with relief that I'd finally pulled away from the stigma of being regarded as a lesser human because of my lack of education. That was all behind me now, and all I had to do was prove to the world that Bella Swan was good enough to be employed by this newspaper, which I knew damn well I was.

"So when do you want me to start?" I ask, still slightly shell-shocked.

"You've already started as far as I'm concerned. Mike will find you a desk out there in the Jungle, so get your head down and start working on the new format. I'll sort out a salary offer later on but I'll make sure it's better than you were getting at the Express. Also, you'll have to join the Union, today if possible. You can call yourself a journalist now, so being a member of the NUJ is mandatory."

When Johnson said the word and referred to me as a 'journalist' I choke with pride, and then I realise I have to make another decision that there'll be no going back from. I think about it for two or maybe three seconds, then blurt out…

"I want my proper name to be on the first four-page pull out, Johnson. I'm happy to still be 'Aaron Y Moss' until then, but that's it."

Johnson leans over to me and smiles. "I was going to insist on that anyway; Isabella Swan, Journalist Extraordinaire!"

* * *

I walk out of Johnson's office about six inches taller than when I walked in. 'Isabella Swan, Journalist Extraordinaire!' I can't take it all in, even though I know that Johnson has made me a genuine offer and I'm now employed again. I don't actually care what he pays me; the fact that I have a proper job, no...a proper _career,_ for the first time in my life, is more than I'd ever hoped for.

As I step into the place that I now realise is officially referred to as 'The Jungle', a loud cheer goes up from everyone in the room and it's patently obvious straight away that the whole floor has just been listening to my tirade about orgasms and the like, as there are a lot of grinning men and totally embarrassed women staring at me.

"Oh my God," I choke out. "I'm never going to live this down in a million years," I wail, and I know I must have gone as red as a London bus as my face is on fire.

Mike thinks this is hilarious and is actually weeping with laughter at my embarrassment. I don't know if he purposely left Johnson's door open, but I'll get him for this later on.

When he's stopped chortling, Mike leads me around the desks and introduces me to his colleagues. They all seem to know who I am and they congratulate me on my articles so far and say how much they are looking forward to this week's revelations. Apparently advertising income from products aimed at young people has been gradually increasing over the previous few weeks which has made the future of the paper more secure, so I could genuinely claim to be the most popular person in the room at the moment.

We find a spare desk by a window so at least I can get some fresh air, even though Mike was right when he said the early morning fog would dissipate. Coping with cigarette fumes is going to be a trial for me, but it's something I'm going to have to put up with if I want to work here. I tip the disgusting fag-ends from the obligatory ashtray on my desk into the waste bin and stuff it out of sight in a drawer then take a seat on a slightly rickety chair on wheels, which is obviously the one no-one wants.

I draw a deep breath and survey my new surroundings. I want to scream I'm so excited. I know I should be feeling nervous about starting a new job and the responsibility that goes with it, but I'm not nervous at all. I already feel at home here and this helps take the edge off the pain inside me because I know there's a chance I may not see Edward again.

I'm still debating what to do about Edward as I know I'll never pluck up the courage to actually go to Fleet Street. Writing to him at his workplace, telling him I've left the Express and why I've left, seems like the best option to me at the moment. At least then he'll have my home address and it will be up to him if he wants to contact me. I try to close my mind to the possibility that he won't as that's too painful to contemplate at the moment and concentrate on what Johnson's asked me to do, as I certainly don't want to blow this chance as well.

I already have some ideas for expanding my column and when Mike leaves me on my own I start scribbling them down on a notepad. I'm still working when Johnson brings over my amended article for me to fine-tune, so I stop what I'm doing and concentrate on this as the deadline for the print-run is in a few hours' time and it still needs to be typed-up.

The day flies by and I don't even stop for lunch. My article is ready before the three o'clock deadline and Johnson is pleased with the end result. He's also enthusiastic about my initial ideas for the pull-out which would appear the Friday after next so I go home buzzing with excitement.

Mum and dad are thrilled for me when I tell them about my new job, but Mike and I still keep quiet about me being 'Aaron Y Moss', as I don't want them reading tomorrow's article knowing it was their innocent daughter writing about 'S-E-X'. Also, they're still in the dark about me being in Clacton, so there's no point owning up to being there either and causing an unnecessary fuss.

 **Friday 8th May, 1964**

Friday is brilliant because we only work in the morning then go down the pub for a bit of 'team-bonding' and to celebrate the end of another busy week, which has culminated in a successful print run. As I sip my first-ever half-pint of lager and lime, I think back to the start of the week when I was happy to just be Garrett's secretary. Now I was a fully accepted part of a team of hard-working journalists and I was determined that I'd never go back to being 'just' anything.

I telephone Alice before I leave the office and tell her the good news about my job and arrange to meet her on the corner at 7.30. Jaz is still looking after his mother and won't be going to The Roxy tonight, so it's back to going on the bus together like old times. Jake still hasn't returned to The Roxy after his accident but Mrs Black told me at work last week that he'd started his driving lessons so was on the mend. Jake had admitted to her that he'd been seeing Jessica on the sly and I'd found out, so there was no hard feelings which I was pleased about as she'd been so kind to me.

We get to The Roxy just before eight and join the queue with some of the scooter boys who are pleased to see us. Riley sidles over to me and sheepishly offers me a lift home so I tell him I have to go on the bus now because my dad has banned me from going on a scooter after Jake's accident, which is true. I suspect Riley is trying to pluck up courage to ask me on a date, so I'll tell him, just as a chatty aside, that I'm sort-of seeing someone else now but he's not a Mod, so he wouldn't be coming down here.

Its great catching up with the crowd while we're waiting to go in. Some of the boys are talking about going to the coast on the next bank holiday which is next weekend. I'm offered rides down there on the back of a scooter and Ian even offers me a lift in the Cortina that Jake wanted to shag me in, which is a blumin' cheek, but I decline all the invitations. For one thing I'm not going to defy my dad, but most importantly I don't have any intention of risking getting caught up in a fight between Mods and Rockers again. I still consider myself to be a 'Mod', but that side of the culture is not for me and I know Alice feels the same.

The doors open and Louie Louie is blaring out of the DJ's speakers and everyone's spirits are instantly raised even higher. As we shuffle forward I hear the word, 'bitch', coming from behind me, so I turn around and spot Jessica in the queue and she's giving me the evil eye. Then a mystery is solved, as the girl standing next to her is the 'bitch' Doreen from the typing pool, so now I understand how she found out about my connection to Jacob and Mrs Black. I'm not interested in finding out how they know one another, but I'm desperate to rub Doreen's nose in the fact that I'm now ... (deep breath because I still can't believe it) ... a journalist, but I know I have to keep quiet for a little while longer and then they'll both have the shock of their lives.

Once we get inside, Angela runs up to us and gives us a collective hug then tells us excitedly that her parents have finally met Tyler and are okay about her going out with a boy from Jamaica. After this bit of good news, we go over to 'our' corner and stand with the usual crowd of scooter boys while the club fills up. We've been there about half an hour and the atmosphere is already building to be a great evening when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn quickly and see Jake grinning at me. He seems to have grown taller since I last saw him and his hair is much shorter than before, which is probably due to him having to have part of his head shaved when they operated on him. It actually suits him and makes him look a lot more grown-up.

"Hi Bella," he says and gives me a broad smile.

"Jake! It's great to see you," I reply, and it's a genuine reaction because I'm pleased and relieved to see he's recovered enough to be out and about again. "How are you?" I ask and smile back while patting him on the arm, hoping it's not the one he injured.

"I'm okay, not a hundred percent yet but I will be soon. Can we talk?"

I hesitate before agreeing but figure it would be rude of me if I said no, so I nod my head and start walking towards the back of the club. I almost expect Jake to fling his arm over my shoulders like he used to, but he keeps his distance and doesn't touch me. I can see Jessica and Doreen watching me like hawks but they don't bother me anymore. I know if they try to cause any trouble, the scooter boys will dive in and defend me because Jessica's reputation has gone down the toilet since Jake's accident, as everyone here knows she gave it up to try and steal Jake away from me.

When we get to an area where we can talk without shouting, Jacob leans over me and kisses me on my forehead quite tenderly. Before I can react, he launches into what he's obviously been planning to say to me while he's been recovering.

"I want to apologise, Bella. I totally disrespected you that night, _and_ when we were on the scooter on the way to Clacton, _and_ in the store room. I'm going to regret not treating you like the treasure you are until my dying day. I've done a lot of thinking while I've been recovering at home and I've come to the conclusion that ... I've been a complete arse as far as girls are concerned, but I've changed now. My mum gave me a severe talking to when she found out what I'd done with Jessica. She said I didn't deserve a girl like you and she was right. When your own mother says something like that, you know you're in the shit."

"Apology accepted Jake, and thanks," I reply. "I think we've all done a lot of growing up in the last few weeks but I'm glad we've all come through it relatively unscathed."

Jake looks relieved and then he finishes his prepared speech with what I was expecting him to say.

"I don't suppose….."

"No, Jake. You're a lovely guy under all that bravado, but I'm going to be honest with you. Even before we broke up I'd already met someone else who means a lot to me, even though I've got no chance of ever being with him. I didn't two-time you; I would never do that to a guy, but my heart wasn't in our relationship after I met him. It was somewhere else and still is. I'm sure there are many more treasures out there and I'm positive you'll have a lot of fun looking for that special one, but I hope you've more luck than me."

Jake nods his head then gives me one of his cheeky smirks. "Friends?"

"Definitely," I reply then give him a friendly hug.

"Ouch!" he exclaims and winces. "My shoulder and wrist aren't completely mended yet, so be gentle with me."

"Sorry," I laugh and give him another 'gentler' hug.

'Up on the Roof' starts playing so Jake takes hold of my hand and leads me onto the dance floor.

"Will you dance with me for old time's sake, Bella?"

"Of course," I reply. "Especially as this is the first song we ever danced to and because you asked me so nicely this time."

We slow-dance together and Jake sings the words in my ear like before, and, like before, I'm getting the jealous bitch-face from plenty of girls who are standing around the edge of the dance floor without a partner, including Jessica and Doreen who are fuming. Only Jake and I know that we're just friends now, but I'm not going to tell them that, because when it comes down to it, I can be an evil bitch too.

Nah nah nah!

* * *

 **So Bella's a journalist now. Little does she know her first reporting job is going to lead her into serious danger (not with the Krays though)! An innocent interview with a 'soon to be famous person' will lead her into the path of...no, I'm giving too much away.**

 **Emmett and Rosie are an item now which is what you were all anticipating. Is Edward going to warn Rosie about Emmett's you-know-what, or is he just going to have to keep his mouth shut? He'll be seeing Rosie without Emmett hovering nearby at Harry's funeral soon, so maybe he'll warn her then (surely not)!**

 **At least Bella has made her mind up to contact Edward by letter (a lot of you guys guessed this). What a shame he isn't on Facebook, or Email, or Twitter, or Whatsapp. It's a different world now!**

FYI

Women's magazines back then usually contained at least one knitting or crochet pattern, at least one story about the Queen or another member of the Royal Family, plus a feature on animals. So an article about ' **Knitting a Royal Corgi** ' would cover just about everything, except maybe the odd recipe or two. If you didn't already know, our Queen has always owned several Corgi's at one time. She still has a couple, but apparently she isn't replacing them with new ones when the ones she still has go over the rainbow bridge. Maybe she's worried about who'll look after them when _she_ goes over the rainbow bridge herself (in her golden carriage). The Queen is 92 now, Gawd Bless Her! I honestly can't imagine this country without her as she became Queen in 1952, about eighteen months before I was born.

 **Dr Kildare** , as played by a Brylcreem'd Richard Chamberlain, was a medical series that was made between 1961 and 1966. He was a bit of a heart-throb at the time. I can't remember my mum being smitten though. Apparently William Shatner was offered the part first, but I can't imagine him in the role can you? Can't imagine Richard Chamberlain as Captain Kirk either!

 **In the next chapter, Jasper finds out what's in Harry's Will, and he gets some surprising news about his family which is a bit of a shock for him. Bella's article causes a bit of a stir, she writes a letter to Edward, and she gets a very interesting phone call.**

Joan x


	27. Chapter 27

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 26**

Sunday 10th May 1964

 **Edward**

I don't bother going down to Haslemere on Saturday, but stay in town over the weekend and do boring stuff like food shopping, getting my hair cut and ordering a wreath for Harry's funeral. My parents had already booked into The Savoy from Sunday afternoon so dad could get plenty of rest before the funeral which is taking place the next day. It will be his first trip out since his heart attack, so The Savoy is the ideal place for them to stay because it's so near to the hospital in case he starts to feel unwell.

It's my birthday on Wednesday, so I arrange to have Sunday lunch with them in the Savoy Grill which is dad's favourite restaurant in London. When I arrive, Rosie is already there seated next to dad who looks thoroughly miserable, and you don't need to be a genius to work out why.

Rosie stands and gives me a kiss on the cheek, but quickly whispers in my ear, "I haven't seen you in a while, okay?"

I give her arm a little squeeze to let her know I get that she doesn't want me to mention Emmett today then go over and kiss mum and shake dad's hand, which feels cold and clammy. His face is very pale compared to his usual skin tone but I put this down to being cooped up in hospital for several weeks then being confined at home to continue his recovery.

I notice the glass tumbler in front of him contains an amber liquid and I must have done a double-take. Before I ask what it is, dad mutters, "Ginger Ale. That's all your wicked mother will let me drink now, the witch."

"Damn right," I reply, "And I hope you've stopped smoking as well?"

Dad harrumphs and it's obvious he's exceedingly agitated. Being in a restaurant surrounded by people drinking and smoking is definitely getting to him and I can understand and sympathise with his anxiety. The poor guy can't even have a steak either, which is the Savoy Grill's speciality dish and his favourite meal bar none. Mum makes him order fish and salad so I choose the same as him as a gesture of solidarity.

The meal is good humoured and we try to lighten dad's mood, but it's obvious he isn't in a good place and it's nothing to do with Harry's impending funeral tomorrow but all to do with withdrawal symptoms. We talk about Harry and the implications his death will have on Charlotte and Jasper, but until we know the contents of Harry's Will, it's all speculation. No-one has seen or heard from Jasper since the reading on Friday and I'm not expecting to really get a chance to talk to him until after the funeral.

I don't have to stay long as mum insists dad has lies down straight after lunch. He's nodding while we're drinking coffee so we call it a day and help him up to his room. After leaving the Savoy, Rosie and I walk along the Thames Embankment for a while then climb the steps onto Waterloo Bridge to take a look at the city-scape in the late afternoon light.

London is still recovering from the war, even though it's nearly twenty years since the last bombs fell on the city. From where we were standing we could still see evidence of blast damage on some of the imposing government buildings that line the river on the north side. St Paul's Cathedral and the majority of the ancient buildings of Westminster and the City miraculously survived the Blitz thanks to the incredibly brave men and women of the London Fire Brigade, but parts of the old city had been flattened and were now being rebuilt; consequently the iconic skyline was now littered with ugly cranes.

Instead of replacing the destroyed buildings with good quality replacements, cheap, speculatively built skyscrapers which probably wouldn't last fifty years, were now springing up next to famous monuments, and the classic beauty of the old city was being marred by get-rich-quick charlatans, like Harry Whitlock. It's a travesty, especially as Berlin and other European cities were being rebuilt sympathetically, but Britain had been left in massive financial debt after the war and there was no public money available to plough into restoration.

While Rosie and I were leaning against the parapet, I told her I didn't have a problem with her dating Emmett and wished her well. She said it was early days in their relationship as she'd only spent three weekends with him, but she more than liked him as he was kinder to her than any man she had ever met and he treated her like a princess. He'd already owned up to being a draft-dodger, but that didn't concern her at all as she was vociferously against the escalating war in Vietnam.

I talked to her about being safe on Emmett's bike, but made sure it didn't sound like I was lecturing her. I'd come to terms with the fact that Rosie _was_ a big girl now and she didn't want or need an over-protective older brother breathing down her neck. After we'd both said what we wanted to say, she gave me a hug and a kiss and said, "See you at the funeral," then hailed a passing cab, leaving me on the bridge with my thoughts.

Harry's death had been a shocking reminder that a normal life-span was very short and even then could be taken away at any time. Harry was fifty-five; only thirty years older than me, so no age to die really. One minute he was there; a larger than life character who did everything to excess, and then he was gone. After his funeral, except for his immediate family who would remember him and mourn his loss, the world would carry on as though he'd never existed. It was sobering to think that history would forget you, unless you were someone like John F Kennedy or Winston Churchill; even Hitler of course but for all the wrong reasons.

I pondered whether I could make my mark on society like Kennedy or Churchill. I had the opportunity of course, as I could make a name for myself in the Law Courts, championing civil rights and equality, which was what was happening in the States at the moment with politicians like Bobby Kennedy and campaigners like Martin Luther King. Also, I knew that one day I would enter the House of Lords, so could make my mark there as an independent Peer of the Realm. Hopefully that wouldn't happen for a while as I still hoped my father's inevitable passing was a long way off in the future. Whatever, there was a lot of living to be done before then.

I make my way home via the tube and I'm surprised to find Jasper at the house as I presumed he would stay with his mother until after the funeral. When I walk into the living room he's slumped on the sofa with a bottle of beer in his hand and a blank expression on his face. I don't say anything to him straight away apart from "Hi", but after getting changed out of my suit I go down to the kitchen and get myself a beer from the fridge then join him as I'm sure he wants to talk.

"I needed to get away for a while," he mutters as he answers my unsaid question. "Some of mum's friends have already turned up for the funeral so she's not on her own. I've got a shed-load of stuff to think over and needed some space as I'm getting pretty close to losing my mind."

"What sort of things?" I ask, even though I know that's a stupidly insensitive remark in the circumstances.

Jasper takes a long drink from his bottle and stares at the ceiling as if he doesn't want to make eye contact with me while he speaks.

"My real dad turned up at the apartment yesterday and asked to see me. My initial reaction was to tell him to go to hell, but he hung around and said he wasn't leaving until we'd spoken, so I eventually gave in."

"What the heck did he want? I thought Alistair wasn't interested in getting to know you."

"Yeah, well, I know why now."

"Why? Or don't you want to tell me?"

"Yeah, I'll tell you. I've got to speak to someone about it or I'll go fucking mad."

He drains the last of his beer so I go downstairs again and fetch him another bottle and put it in his hand.

Jasper chuckles to himself for a moment while I wait patiently and then he launches into his story in a strangely sing-song voice, as though he's reading a child's book out loud.

"Once upon a time, there were three young people. My mum, the beautiful and well-bred Charlotte Masen; my _real_ dad, the also well-bred, artistic and borderline bohemian, Alistair MacDonald, and Harry Whitlock, the fast-talking, larger than life but slightly dubious entrepreneur. Alistair and Harry were best pals at school and they were both in love with Charlotte, but Charlotte only loved Harry and so they got married. Alistair remained Harry's friend but never married as apparently Charlotte was and still is the love of his life."

I watch Jasper carefully as he takes a long drink from his bottle. I can tell he's on edge but I don't make any comment as I don't want to interrupt his flow. I know who Alistair is of course; I'd met him briefly about ten years ago at Aunt Charlotte's fortieth birthday party. I was fifteen at the time and even I spotted his resemblance to Jasper which was embarrassingly obvious. Jasper continued.

"Charlotte wanted to get pregnant straight after they got married because your mum had just had you, so Harry and Charlotte went for it from their wedding night onwards, but nothing happened for a couple of years. So...she went to see a doctor in Harley Street who told her there was nothing obviously wrong with her but the doctor suggested testing Harry before they did more invasive tests. Harry didn't want to at first because he insisted he was in full working order, but eventually he agreed just to keep his wife quiet. The doctors discovered very quickly that he'd been firing blanks all the time. In other words he was infertile, which was probably due to him catching mumps when he was a teenager."

"Shit!" I exclaim.

Jasper didn't comment on my remark but carries on.

"Anyway, they looked into adoption, but Harry's family have something shady in their past which I don't know anything about and don't really want to, so they were turned down flat. After a while they went back to the Harley Street doctor to see if there was anything he could do, and he suggested they ask a friend to donate some sperm so mum could get pregnant. Charlotte wouldn't need to have sex with the 'friend', as he would just have to ejaculate into some sort of receptacle. The sperm would then be transferred to a special syringe and injected into Charlotte in the normal manner. You're seeing where this is going, aren't you?"

"Yep!" I reply as I'd already guessed the end of the story.

"So, to cut a long story short, Alistair did the honours, being dad's best friend and all that, then the doctor injected mum while she was ovulating. After the third attempt, hey presto, little Jasper appeared nine months later. So basically I'm the product of a wank and a turkey-baster."

"Jesus!" I mutter. "So your mum hadn't been unfaithful to Harry after all. But why didn't your real dad want to know you."

"Alistair told me that after I was born, Harry made him promise not to admit to anyone, including me, this was what happened. Harry didn't want anyone to know he was infertile as he stupidly believed that I and other men would think less of him because of it, which is complete bollocks."

"So he thought it preferable for everyone to presume all this time that his wife had been playing around with his best friend, rather than admit he couldn't have kids. That's nuts!"

"I think the proper description is 'fucked-up', Edward, even though at the time he probably didn't expect me to look like a carbon-copy of Alistair when I grew up."

"I suppose that's true. If you'd just looked like your mum, or a combination of both of them, no-one would be any the wiser."

Jasper chuckles facetiously under his breath at my comment and I realise as soon as I've said it that that idea is 'fucked-up' as well. Harry's insistence that Jasper shouldn't find out how he came into the world was totally selfish, as every child has the right to know who his or her parents are, and ignorance is not always bliss.

Jasper carries on talking but his voice suddenly changes. I can hear real emotion behind his words and it's obvious he's trying not to break down.

"Ever since I realised I was the image of Alistair and guessed he was my biological father, I've been seriously messed up. I've never truly trusted anyone, and to be honest I'm a screwed-up misfit. From originally being the golden-boy who worked hard and did everything right, I became an angry and disruptive teenager at school and nearly got expelled several times. Even when I was travelling I did stuff I'm not proud of, because deep down I wanted to lash out at the world because my own father had rejected me. Until Alice came along, I never dared have a long-term relationship with anyone, as I knew I wouldn't be able to cope if I got close to someone and they cheated on me, like I thought mum had done with Alistair. I've never stayed in one place long for that reason; I didn't say goodbye to the Californian Harley girl for instance. I just fucked off and left her with no explanation."

"So why is Alice different?" I ask, even though I'm sort of changing the subject.

"I love her and I know she loves me, and when you're absolutely certain that someone truly loves you the whole world changes and you see life differently. Until it happens to you, you have no idea how good it is. Alice and I haven't even had sex yet, but I know when we do it will be the most amazing experience ever and I want that moment to be extra-special for both of us, and not just a sneaky fumble when her parents are watching TV downstairs."

Jasper puts his empty bottle down and wrings his hands together and I can tell he's really anguished.

"Edward, if anything happened to Alice I'd probably kill myself, which is why I've decided to get rid of my scooter. Too many kids are having accidents on them so I'm dumping it and buying an armoured truck or something like that."

I snigger at that suggestion as I can just imagine Jasper thundering through the streets in a Sherman Tank or something similar.

"You can't afford one; they cost millions," I reply and take a long drink from my beer bottle.

"Actually, I can," he replies nonchalantly. "I'm an effing multi-millionaire."

I nearly choke on my beer when he says that but he carries on talking robotically as though he's speaking from a script.

"Harry was the majority shareholder in his building company and he's left me everything to do with the business in his Will, plus a shed-load of cash. Mum gets our homes in Park Lane, the Cotswolds and the South of France, plus the rest of the cash which is substantial, but everything else comes to me. He wrote the Will about a year ago, probably under the assumption I'd be about fifty when he snuffed it."

"Bloody hell," I splutter as I can't think of anything more succinct to say. Jasper carries on.

"When I came back from travelling just before Christmas, Harry told me he wanted me to take over the reins of the business when he retired in ten years' time, but I told him I wasn't interested. Running a building company and dealing with the type of people he mixes with is not my idea of job satisfaction and I explained that to him, but in the nicest possible way as I was touched he trusted me after all the grief I'd put him and mum through. Maybe he presumed I'd change my mind when I matured but it doesn't matter now. He had the opportunity to alter his Will but he didn't, and now I've got that sodding burden around my neck."

"What are you going to do?" I ask while trying to get my head around him complaining that being a multi-millionaire was a burden.

"I honestly don't know, but what I _do_ know is there's no way I'm taking over where he left off. I'm not and never will be a builder on his level. I want to work, and believe it or not I want to build things too, but any projects I'm involved with in the future will be for me and no-one else; in other words a business without a boardroom. I'm seeing the other shareholders after the funeral and if they want to buy me out and offer me a good deal I'll let them, otherwise I'll sell my share on the open market and then I'll just invest the money elsewhere until I decide what to do with my life. One thing I do know, I'm never wearing a bloody suit again apart from at weddings and funerals. I'll be the richest effing beatnik in town."

"Have you told Alice about your inheritance?"

"Not yet, but I will tell her soon. I'm certain I'll marry her one day, but she's still very young and I don't want to pressure her into anything."

"Have you seen her lately?" I ask casually, hoping he'll drop some information about Bella into his reply.

"No, but I'll probably see her next week. She's in the middle of doing exams at college at the moment so I've steered clear for a while. I talk to her every night though, and I miss being with her. I told her I was getting rid of the scooter because they're dangerous and she was really pleased about that. By the way she mentioned that the guy who got knocked off his scooter is okay now."

"That's good," I reply dispassionately. "Has he made up with his ex-girlfriend then?"

"I don't know, I didn't ask. Anyway, enough of my problems; how's your dad?"

"He's okay; looks a bit like a corpse. He needs some sunshine. I think mum might take him away as soon as she gets the all-clear from the doctors to travel."

"I know how he feels," Jasper replies philosophically. "I might bugger-off somewhere after the funeral and get some Vitamin D into my pores. I love London, but I miss being near the sea. I know I'm going to end up buying a house by a beach, but which beach? I haven't decided yet."

"I'm sure you'll find the right place eventually," I reply.

"Yeah, eventually. Right, I'm starving. I'm going to make some cheese on toast; do you want some?"

"Yep," I reply gratefully. "Fish and salad for lunch doesn't really cut it on a Sunday. I'm hungry too."

While Jasper was clattering around in the kitchen, I make my mind up that if Bella isn't at work on Tuesday, I'll own up to Jasper that I know her and ask him to get a message to her via Alice. I need to see her and find out whether she has feelings for me and I'm not prepared to wait any longer. Jasper has Alice; Emmett has Rosie; I want someone to love as well.

* * *

 **Bella**

Monday 11th May 1964

It's still an exhilarating feeling when I walk into the Advertiser's building in the morning. Although it's already my third day as an 'employee', I know it will take some time for me to actually believe I'm here as a legitimate member of staff, even though I'm greeted warmly as I walk into the reception area.

As usual there's a hazy cloud of cigarette smoke between the door of the Jungle and my desk by the window, so I hold my breath as I walk quickly through what can only be described as an obstacle course of desks, chairs, waste bins and people, before flinging my window open so I can exhale and draw a breath of unpolluted air. I can see my colleagues grinning at me as I sit down at my desk. They've already worked out I'm a non-smoker and they definitely haven't taken offence at my actions, but whether I can cope with coming home every night smelling like an ashtray remains to be seen.

Just after nine, Johnson introduces me to the editor I'll be working with on the spread. His name is Keith and he's just come back from his honeymoon which is why I hadn't met him before. He's in his mid-twenties and very enthusiastic about the idea of a four-page pull-out and is also very complimentary about my articles so far, especially the one that had appeared on Friday about sex which we had a bit of a childish giggle about. During the morning, I hear from the others that Johnson has received a number of phone calls complaining about the content of my article, saying it was unseemly and inappropriate for a local newspaper to discuss this type of subject. Keith tells me that most of our contact with readers is by post, so I'm anxiously waiting for the first batch of letters to arrive, and they apparently hit the doormat on Tuesday morning as the angry people of East London tend to do their letter writing at the weekend.

After lunch, Johnson calls me in to his office and hands me a piece of paper with a telephone number on and a lady's name scribbled underneath. Her first name is Barbara, but her surname is unpronounceable.

"What's this?" I ask.

"She wants you to call her tomorrow. She read your article about the lack of affordable fashion for young girls and wants to give you an interview. She runs a successful mail-order company and is coming to London to set up a shop. She's based in Brighton at the moment."

"Okay, I'll contact her. Do you know what her company's called? I might have heard of it."

"Yeah, it's called Biba. I've never heard of it, but then I'm not a teenager or a girl."

"I've never heard of it either. I'll definitely give her a call though. I might speak to my friend Alice first. She's probably heard of it so at least I can sound knowledgeable when I talk to her."

"Good idea, Bella. By the way, how are you getting on with Keith?"

"Great thanks. I think we'll be a good team."

I call Alice from the phone box after dinner and when I say the word 'Biba', Alice screams so loudly I have to pull the phone away from my ear.

"From that reaction I presume you've heard of her," I say when she's calmed down.

"Oh my God," she replies. "Everyone's got one of her pink gingham dresses. She's a-maz-ing. If you're going to meet her, can I come too? Please please please, Bella!"

"Of course you can. You'll be able to ask her more relevant questions than I could anyway. It might mean going to Brighton though. Can you get away from college this week?"

I hear Alice sigh. "No, I can't. I've got exams all week and next week. Dammit."

"Oh well, never mind. Can you think of some questions for me though; that would be a real help."

"Sure," she replies, but I can tell she's really disappointed.

After a quick chat about Jasper and his father's funeral, we hang up and I promise to call her tomorrow and let her know what I've arranged about the interview.

The next day I call Barbara with the unpronounceable name. I wasn't expecting her to answer the phone herself, but she picked up and said…

"Barbara Hulanicki," which is nothing like what Johnson had scribbled on the note so I'm glad she's said it first.

"Hello, Miss…Hoo-la-neeki," I stutter as if it was The Queen that had picked up the telephone. _"Get it together; you're a journalist,"_ I say to myself in my head so I draw a deep breath and continue.

"My name is Isabella Swan. I'm the journalist who wrote the article in the East London Advertiser. Mr Johnson said you're willing to be interviewed about young women's fashion so I'm calling to make an appointment."

"Hello, Isabella. Yes, I'd be delighted to see you, but I'm tied up for the rest of this week with architects and builders. Would next week be okay with you?"

"Yes, fine," I reply excitedly. "Our paper is creating a new section aimed at teenagers and young adults, so I'd like to have your interview as one of the main features for its first run on Friday the twenty-second, so earlier in the week would suit the newspaper better."

"Hmmm," she replies, "That might be difficult, Isabella; I'm away on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday." I can hear pages being turned and I presume she's looking at her diary. "Isabella, could you come down to Brighton on Sunday? I've got a free day so would be quite happy to see you then."

I take an instant decision as I hadn't got any plans for the bank holiday weekend, and as a bonus I could take Alice with me.

"Yes, that would be perfect. Would you mind if I brought my colleague with me. She's very knowledgeable about fashion and apparently has one of your gingham dresses."

Barbara laughs and replies, "Yes of course; it would be a pleasure to meet one of my customers."

I tell her I'll check the train times from London and would call her back when I've made the arrangements. I put the phone down and mentally give myself a congratulatory pat on the back. This will be my first proper interview and even though this lady is relatively unknown, and the chances of her not amounting to much in the fashion world are high, it will be a great experience for me as I'm on a very steep learning curve.

I leave the office and make my way over to the kitchen to make myself a celebratory cup of coffee and spot Johnson waving at me from his glass box. As I walk in the door I see two piles of letters on his desk, one small and one huge and an ever huger pile of unopened envelopes on the floor. I guess straight away they are letters of complaint and I'm devastated.

"Oh shit!" I say and sit down without being invited to before my legs give way. "Are you going to sack me?" I ask and I can feel my face crumbling as my career disappears down the toilet.

Johnson gives me an angry stare which frightens the daylights out of me and then his face morphs into a broad smile.

"First rule of journalism, Bella, is that everything that's published is down to the boss, so if there's a balls-up and someone's up for getting the sack it would be me, not some lowly journalist, okay?"

"Yes Johnson," I reply, although I'm still feeling shell-shocked.

"Second rule of journalism is that if something is printed that the public go wild about and pats on the head are going to be handed out, they would be for _my_ head, not some lowly journalist, okay?"

"Yes Johnson," I reply again, wondering why he's still grinning.

"See this pile here," he says pointing to the smaller pile. "These are the complaints. The big pile here are letters of support, thanking us for bringing this subject to the fore. In all my years of doing this job, I've never seen such a reaction to an article so I think you're on to something here. Well done."

"Thanks Johnson," I blurt out, feeling mightily relieved I wasn't in trouble. He passes me both piles of the opened letters to read and as I turn to leave, I figure this would be the right time to speak to him about my planned trip to Brighton.

"As you're in a good mood," I start…

* * *

 **Edward**

 **Monday 11th May**

The funeral is a depressing affair as many of my parents' friends and relations are here, so if dad had succumbed to his heart attack I couldn't imagine his funeral being very much different to the one I'm attending today. I stay with Rosie for most of the time as I don't really want to speak to the vast majority of the mourners as I've got nothing much to say to them, plus I'm in a bad mood and feeling agitated. The church service and private internment is followed by an impressive lunch for invited guests at the Dorchester, which must be costing a small fortune, but Charlotte is determined to give Harry a good send-off and as send-offs go, this one is certainly over the top.

I hardly get a chance to talk to Jasper as he's being the dutiful son, doing the rounds and making sure he speaks to every guest. I do notice that Alistair is on his table and I spot them having a long chat and they seem to be relaxed with one another. I keep my distance as I don't want to intrude or get involved in what is a very personal time for both of them.

I've decided to speak to Jasper about Bella if he comes home with me tonight, or tomorrow at the latest. I'm getting more and more worked up about not seeing her, so much so that I seriously contemplate leaving the wake at about four thirty and getting a cab to the Express so I can catch her coming out, but I decide against it as that is ridiculous. I'm confident I'll see her tomorrow morning so a few more hours won't hurt.

Mum takes dad back to the Savoy at six and as the wake is winding down I decide it's time to leave too. I look around to see if I can spot Jasper, but can't find him anywhere. In the end I ask Aunt Charlotte if she knows where he is and she hands me an envelope.

"He's already left to see Alice," she replies. "I've decided to go to the villa in the South of France tomorrow for a few weeks and he told me he needed to take a break as well. He left you this note."

I nearly scream in frustration but there's nothing I can do. I give my aunt a kiss and say, "Have a safe journey," or something like that and walk off to read Jasper's message in private.

I find a seat by a window and open the envelope. The letter is written on a piece of my own notepaper so he must have written it at home last night, which confuses me as he could've warned me, but I put that to one side and start to read.

 _Ed,_

 _If you've got this note it means I've decided to get away for a while. As I'm writing this I still haven't decided whether to go or not, so there's a chance I might screw this letter up at the funeral and throw it in the bin._

 _At the moment my plan is to see Alice after the funeral then head to the coast. I need time to think, and the only place I can do that is somewhere where I can feel sand between my toes and listen to waves crashing on rocks. I can't do that in London unfortunately; the Serpentine doesn't really cut it._

 _I won't be away for long. I'll probably be back by the weekend, but I don't know for definite yet. I'll call you when I've made my mind up. Sorry to be so vague; I've no idea which way is up at the moment._

 _One thing I have decided though is that you can tell Jenks I'll buy his business. I don't want anything to do with the running of it and I may sell it on in the future, but it will give you and your colleagues some breathing space and preserve what Jenks has built up. At least I can do something good with Harry's money immediately. Tell Jenks I'll be in touch when I return._

 _Thanks for listening when I told you about Alistair. I'm still trying to get my head around this fucked-up situation but I'm happy we're now on speaking terms. Why is life so bloody complicated?_

 _Speak soon,_

 _Jasper_

I read the letter twice then fold it up and put it in my pocket. I can understand why he wants to get away as his whole life has been turned upside-down. I can remember how I felt during those few days when I thought my father was going to die, and I wondered how I would have coped with life if he hadn't made it. Selfishly of course I now have to rely on catching Bella before or after work, so I would make sure I was standing by the bus stop tomorrow morning from eight thirty onwards.

I hail a cab outside the Dorchester as I can't face the underground and come home to an empty and silent house. I accept I've quickly got used to Jasper being around and I genuinely miss him being here as it's nice having someone to talk to, especially after a stressful day. I make some coffee and toast and watch some TV, but the house seems too quiet. I contemplate going out on Sadie or Tara, but I've had a lot to drink at the funeral so dismiss the idea. As I drum my fingers on the arm of the sofa, I realise I've got used to living with someone and I don't want to go back to single life again, so because I have no-one to talk to I go to bed early setting the alarm for six.

* * *

 **Tuesday 12th May**

I'm on the pavement by the bus stop at eight thirty as I'm absolutely determined to see her, even if I have to march into the Express building and find out where her office is. Buses come and go but it gets to five to nine and Bella still hasn't appeared.

The huddle of girls Bella used to hang about with are just about to go in the building and I spot the one that Bella seemed to talk to the most. I sprint up to her just as she's about to walk up the steps as she's my best bet to find out what's happened to her.

"Excuse me," I shout out and the girl and a couple of the others stop in their tracks and turn to look at me.

"I'm waiting for Bella Swan. Do you know what time she comes in?"

The girl gives me a funny look and then it's obvious she knows who I am as her initial look of confusion turns into a warm smile.

"You're the guy from Lyons, aren't you?"

"Yes," I sigh and realise I must sound relieved. "I work in the office across the street. I haven't seen Bella for a couple of days. Do you know where she is?"

"She left," she replied. "We don't know the full story, but apparently she told the managers where to stick their job. She walked out last Wednesday."

I nearly scream in frustration. I'd missed her by one day.

"Any idea where she's gone," I ask, trying to stay calm.

"Why do you want to know?" the girl replies. "You might be an axe-murderer for all we know."

"I'm not an axe-murderer," I spit. "I'm her friend."

I have to think quickly and give her a plausible excuse why I want to see her again.

"Bella told me she wants to write a book about London and I said I'd help her. That's why she went for a walk at lunchtime every day. I went with her a couple of times."

"Oh right," she replies. "Look, I'm really sorry. All I know is they had a shuffle-round upstairs and she was told she had to work with a guy who's a bit of a pervert. She refused and walked out. Since she left, there's been mayhem up there as most of the secretaries are refusing to work with some of the men unless they stop ogling them. I know Bella lives in Poplar and is or was going out with our supervisor's son, but that's all I can tell you."

"Thanks," I reply then turn away and cross the road to my building. I want to kick something I'm so furious and it isn't just because I wasn't going to see her today; it's also because she's apparently been forced to leave her job because of sexual harassment. I feel like marching into the building, finding that disgusting creep who propositioned her so I can kick him in the balls, but of course I can't do this just in case the girl I talked to was just spreading a rumour, even though I doubt it.

I mumble a 'good morning' to Jane and Margaret, who've probably noticed I've got a face like sour milk as they don't bother attempting to strike up a conversation. I stomp up the stairs to my office then slam the door as I don't want to speak to anyone. Even though I've got good news about the business for Jenks, I just want to be left alone so I can wallow in self-pity and kick myself repeatedly for not asking her on a date when I had the chance.

Today is Tuesday and tomorrow is my birthday, and because my beach-bum cousin has buggered off to 'find himself', I'll have to live without Bella until the wanderer decides to return from his tropical island or whatever beach he's burying his toes in.

I hope he gets bitten by a crab and fucking sunburned.

* * *

 **Bella**

My first full week as a journalist flies by. Keith and I work brilliantly together and best of all, because Keith is a non-smoker as well, Johnson says we can clear out a room that's filled with old stock and redundant copying equipment, and turn it into our office. As we plan to keep the air in our room pristine, we ask the girl who does the graphics to make up a sign for the door saying it's a 'fag-free-zone'. It's like a 'Stop' road sign but in the middle there's a cartoon of a cigarette with arms, legs and a horrified face drawn on the butt.

During the week, letters keep on arriving about my article and they are about four-to-one in favour. I notice that most of the complaints are from men, which surprises me at first, but when I think about it I'm wondering whether they've received an ear-bashing from their wives or girlfriends about not being able to get them off, which is both funny and sad. As I read some of the more angry ones, I'm so glad I didn't put my name to this article as I'd be fearing for my life by now.

Johnson has agreed to pay mine and Alice's train fares to Brighton, so we plan to make a day of it. Jaz has gone away to get over losing his dad and doesn't know when he'll be back, so Alice is thrilled when I tell her I've arranged to meet Barbara on Sunday. I've never visited Brighton before but Alice has been there several times with her parents and loves it. She excitedly tells me about all the lovely little shops in a part of the town called 'The Lanes', so I'm looking forward to seeing those even if they aren't open on Sunday. Window shopping means I'm not tempted to spend any money.

Before leaving work on Friday night, I post Edward the letter I've been humming and haa-ing over during the week. I keep it short and sweet.

 _26 Alfred Street, Poplar, E14_

 _Dear Edward,_

 _Just to let you know I'm not working for the Express anymore. I resigned and left without notice because they ordered me to work with the pervert who was staring at us last time I saw you. I'm now working for the East London Advertiser with my brother, so at least I'm not unemployed. If you'd like to meet up again, give me a call there, or write to me at my home address._

 _I hope you are well and your father is continuing to improve._

 _Best wishes,_

 _Bella_

I post it on the way home, so hopefully he'll receive it on Tuesday morning after the bank holiday. I feel anxious when I drop the letter in the post box, but at least I'll know if he doesn't contact me sometime next week that he isn't interested in meeting up again, and then I can give up my dream that we could ever have been more than just lunchtime friends.

I go with Alice to The Roxy on Friday night and we have a great evening with lots of dancing and some great music. Tyler has brought several of his West Indian friends with him and they show us how to dance to the new Ska and Blue Beat sound that's becoming very popular in the Mod clubs. I know I shouldn't stereotype people, but Tyler and his friends are much better dancers than the white boys. They have no inhibitions at all and their joyful interpretation of the music is infectious and lifts the spirits in the club to another level. When I can tell everyone I'm working for the Advertiser, I'll get Tyler to help me write an article about this type of music and where it originates from.

The scooter boys are talking all evening about a trip to the coast again on Sunday rather than Bank Holiday Monday. They're definitely avoiding Essex this time but are favouring resorts on the south coast like Bournemouth or Hastings which are much closer and usually a lot warmer. Someone has heard that the Rockers are heading to Margate in Kent on Monday, so they all agree to avoid that town like the plague. Riley asks me again if I'd like to ride pillion with him, (he doesn't give up, bless him), but I tell him I'm going to Brighton with Alice that day and remind him _again_ that my dad has banned me from going on a scooter.

On Saturday I go over to Alice's for the day and we work on our questions for Barbara. Alice has found out a lot of information about Biba from one of the lecturers at her college who's a big fan of Miss Hulanicki's clothes, so I'm confident we'll get a really good article from the meeting. She's also given Alice a copy of Biba's latest mail-order catalogue, so now I have a good idea of the type of clothes Barbara is designing and I'm really impressed by the styling, even though I can't tell what the fabrics feel like or the true colour and quality of the dresses.

Alice heard from Jasper just before I turned up and he's coming back from wherever he is later on tonight. I presume she'll be desperate to see him and I'm already prepared for her to bail on tomorrow, but she assures me that she's already committed to coming with me to Brighton. Jasper said he would be tired on Sunday morning anyway, so he would meet us off the train at Victoria station and then spend the evening with her. Apparently he has some exciting news, so I tell her to get her ring finger nicely polished so it would look good when he slips a whacking great diamond on it. She play-slaps me for that comment, but it's obvious she's been thinking the same as her face turns bright red and Alice _never_ blushes.

 **Sunday 17th May 1964**

I wake up on Sunday morning excited by the prospect of going to Brighton. I'd had a bath and washed my hair the night before and have my best clothes and shoes laid out all ready. Alice's dad is driving over to pick me up at nine-thirty then he's taking us to Victoria Station so we can catch the ten o'clock train. We'll be in Brighton just before eleven which will give us an hour to kill before we meet Barbara at her house.

As I carefully put my make-up on and brush my hair, letting it hang loose for a change, little do I know that by the end of the day I'll find myself in the middle of a battle, I'd be abducted and physically assaulted, and my life would be in serious danger.

But most importantly, by the end of the day, my life would never be the same again.

* * *

 **Hells Bells, what the heck are Bella and Alice walking into? (If you look up on the internet to see what happened in Brighton on the Bank Holiday Weekend in May, you'll easily find out).**

 **Jasper has had a shock finding out how he came to be, but at least he's got some answers now which is a good thing. His trip away will help him decide about his future and what he wants to do with his inheritance.**

FYI

Britain was left in huge debt after the war. During the period 1939 to 1941, apart from the Resistance movements in Europe and before Russia joined in, we stood alone against the Nazi's and the country's infrastructure was bombed repeatedly. We had to buy goods and armaments from countries like the USA so were obliged to take out massive loans to pay for them. Eventually the USA piled in after Pearl Harbour at the end of 1941, but we still had to borrow money to keep the war effort going. Britain finally paid off their financial debt to the USA and Canada for WW2 in 2005.

We also had rationing of food and goods until 1954 because we were so broke. There was a massive housing shortage as well (a bit like now), which was why in the 50's and 60's, British towns and cities were littered with cheap, poor quality housing to replace the housing that was destroyed in the war, and also to satisfy a growing population. Builders (like Harry) made huge profits from slinging up hideous eye-sores like residential tower blocks and office sky scrapers like Centre Point. These are gradually being torn down and replaced, thank God.

The **Serpentine** is the name of the lake in the middle of Hyde Park in London. It's long, thin and curvy, like a snake, which is how it got its name.

 **Get yourself comfy for the next chapter as it's going to be a very bumpy ride - but it's also the chapter you've all been waiting for. (I can hear you shouting "about bloody time.")**

Joan xx


	28. Chapter 28

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 27**

Friday, 15th May 1964 (again)

 **Edward**

It was Friday night and I hadn't heard from Jasper all week and had no means of contacting him, and that excruciatingly annoying situation had made me an irritable, miserable git to be around at work.

Margaret and Jane made a fuss of me on my birthday but steered clear of me otherwise. They just kept me supplied with tea and chocolate biscuits on a regular basis, which meant I didn't need to leave my office except to pee. Jenks was delighted when I told him about Jasper's intentions to buy the firm, but we didn't speak of it again as there was no point until Jasper arranges to see him to talk money. So, from Tuesday to Friday, I just kept my head down and concentrated on catching up with the work that had piled up while I was at the Enquiry, until it was time to go home to my empty house for the bank holiday weekend.

Rather than sit in on my own and sulk, I decide to go to the Ace tonight and take Sadie this time. It's a warm, dry evening when I set off; perfect for biking, so I throw caution to the wind and race down the dual carriageway, easily hitting the ton and beyond. I'm so pissed-off with the world at the moment that I wouldn't care anymore if my life ends in the blink of an eye, despite my promise to my father. Rosie has Emmett to look after her, and I can even foresee Jasper's mum ending up with Alistair, which would be totally weird. Now that Jasper is financially secure and has Alice, my family would be fine if I end up splatted across the A40, so reckless Eddie has made a return to the streets of West London and I'm counting on the ride to the Ace to pull me out of the depressed funk which has been hanging over me like an oppressive summer storm.

As the needle hits a hundred and five I'm almost willing a car or lorry to pull out in front of me, but annoyingly every vehicle in my path dives out the way when the drivers hear and see me approaching in their rear-view mirror. Maybe they've spotted the 'don't-fuck-with-me' attitude on my face as I advance towards their bumpers. Whatever, I make it to Acton unscathed and time my ride perfectly to roar through every set of traffic lights without having to stop, but even this triumph doesn't lift my spirits.

By the time I reach the Norf, I'm almost disappointed I've survived my death-wish journey. Normally I would feel a sense of elation after riding dangerously fast, but I feel nothing. My addiction for speed and danger has dissipated along with my lust for life.

When I reach the Ace's forecourt, I park Sadie next to Bonnie but don't dismount straight away. Instead I stop for a while and gaze with disgust at the industrial wasteland which surrounds the Ace and the North Circular Road, with its non-stop noise and air-polluting traffic, its disgustingly filthy and litter-strewn pavements and lines of smoke stained factory units that back onto the sewage and rat-infested Grand Union Canal. It's like I'm seeing this wretched place for the first time again and I'm appalled.

The blackened piles supporting the ugly iron railway bridges, over which trains allegedly loaded with radio-active waste, travel through this heavily built-up area, are testament to the quality of the atmosphere in this part of the world and I compare it to the sweetness of the air in Haslemere, where dappled sunlight filters through abundant trees onto the quiet lanes and country paths that weave through rich, golden pastures. This God-forsaken place is another world, and one that I don't wish to inhabit anymore.

I sigh as I slide off Sadie, patting her saddle before leaving her in Bonnie's company. I spot Emmett and Rosie through the windows and I know they're watching me. Even through the filthy glass I can see a look of curiosity on their faces so I raise my hand in welcome and give them a broad but totally false smile so they won't worry about me.

As I walk through the Ace's door as I've done hundreds of times before, I make the easy decision that this is the last time I'll ever set foot on the hallowed, shiny, vinyl floor of the Ace Café and my life as a Rocker, and along with it my alter-ego, Eddie Masen, will become part of my chequered history.

The Ace will soon be obliged to anoint another King.

* * *

 **Bella**

 **Sunday 17th May 1964**

Alice and I luckily manage to get two seats together on the packed train to Brighton. The carriages are full of Londoners travelling to the coast for the day but I notice there are hardly any young children on the train which puzzles me, and I mention this to Alice.

"That's because the beach is really stoney, Bella," she enlightens me. "There's loads of better places to go if you've got kids who want to play on the sand."

"Ah right," I reply as this wouldn't have occurred to me.

"Why is Brighton so popular then?" I ask.

"Well, there's the Pavilion which is amazing; it looks like the Taj Mahal. Then there's the Pier which is great fun, and there's hundreds of lovely shops, and cafes, and fairground rides, and a nice promenade to walk along, so lots to do."

"Great," I reply enthusiastically but now wishing I'd worn a more comfortable pair of shoes as the sling-backs I'm wearing are not ideal for walking long distances. I'd chosen them because they were my newest and most fashionable pair and I wanted to look my best for Barbara. I guess I'll regret this decision by the end of the day but it's too late to do anything about it now.

We share a Kit Kat on the way and I read over the questions again. Alice is wearing her very short, pink gingham shift dress under her coat. It really suits her so we hope Barbara will be impressed. She's also gone to town on her hair and make-up and I notice she's getting some very odd looks from other passengers. Last night she cut her own hair shorter on top but kept the sides long so she could pull some feathery ends forward to hug her pretty, oval face. To match her new look she's lined her already huge eyes in black and her lashes have been 'mascaraed' so much they're like spikes, which makes them look even more dramatic than they normally do. Her cupid-bow lips are painted in a dark reddy/brown-ish sort-of-colour, which is totally different to the shade she usually wears, and this gives her face a 1920's _vampy_ look. Whatever, she looks amazing and makes me feel quite dowdy in comparison.

Following Barbara's instructions, we catch a bus from Brighton station which drops us about a quarter of a mile from the sea front and near to the address she's given us. We've got a bit of time to kill so we have a coffee in a small café and go over the questions _again,_ then tidy ourselves up in their tiny ladies room. When we feel as ready as we'll ever be, we turn up at the house five minutes early and Barbara greets us at the door with a welcoming smile. Just as we step into the hallway, a group of about five or six motorbikes whizz past us making a terrible noise and I shiver, as the sound reminds me of the confrontation on Clacton beach six or seven weeks ago.

Barbara is a striking looking woman in her late twenties I would guess, with high cheekbones, beautifully made-up eyes and blonde bobbed hair which I'm not a hundred percent sure is her natural colour. The long-sleeved dress she's wearing is an unusual shade of green and made from a soft, floaty material that slides across her slim figure as she moves. I'm fascinated by the style as it's modern, yet reminds me of clothes from the 1920's and 30's. Whatever, I'm now realising why Alice and her tutor were so enthusiastic about Miss Hulaniki's mail-order business, and I've only seen one dress with my own eyes, apart from what Alice is wearing.

We follow Barbara into a small, old-fashioned sitting room where we take off our coats. Barbara chuckles when Alice does a 'twirl' in her gingham dress, but I notice straight away that Barbara can't take her eyes off Alice's face which annoys me a bit because I'm supposed to be the big cheese here. I honestly can't blame her though because Alice looks amazing; modern but classic and naturally beautiful I suppose.

I cough to get Barbara's attention and start asking my questions, which are along the lines of how she got into fashion, where she thought her market was, what was wrong with the fashion business at the moment and how she was going to change the fashion world for young women, et cetera.

Barbara is very forthcoming about herself, telling us that she's the daughter of Polish immigrants who moved to England after the war. She attended the Brighton College of Art in the 50's and had originally been a fashion illustrator for Vogue and other magazines, but thought today's fashions for young women were _disastrous_ and ridiculously expensive. With the help of her husband, Fitz, she started designing her own clothes, then created a business producing and selling affordable clothing to young women who weren't earning very much, but still had a small amount of disposable income at the end of the month. Initially Barbara and Fitz couldn't afford to open a shop, so they did all their business by mail-order. This had taken off really well so they were now ready to take the next step and open a proper shop and had just found some premises in London. Barbara told me Biba would still be continuing with the mail-order range so they could supply their clothes to every part of the country, not just to the lucky residents of London.

When I've asked all the questions on my list, Barbara leads us into a huge conservatory-type room at the back of the house and shows us examples of designs currently in production. The dresses, blouses and skirts are nothing like I'd seen before. For a start the skirt lengths were very short, and I could just imagine my dad's face if I tried to walk out the door showing this much leg. Alice is nearly hyperventilating when she strokes the fabrics lovingly and Barbara gives her a dress to try on. Alice has no sense of decorum. She strips off in front of Barbara and slips on an eau de nil silky shirtdress with buttons from the neckline to just below the waist, and sleeves that are tight at the top of her arm but balloon out around the cuffs. It fits her perfectly, so she waltzes around the conservatory like a catwalk model and obviously having the time of her life.

While Barbara is watching her parade up and down, she goes over to a cupboard and takes out a very expensive-looking camera.

"Do you mind if I take your photograph?" she asks.

"Not at all," Alice replies, so Barbara starts snapping away, but I notice she's taking more photos of her face and hair than the dress which puzzles me.

When Barbara puts the camera away, Alice reluctantly pulls off the dress and hands it back to her.

"You can keep it," Barbara says with a smile and Alice screams with excitement. "Would you like to choose something too, Bella?" she offers.

I jump at the chance and have a careful look through the rails, finally picking out a beautiful dark turquoise and black patterned silky blouse with similar sleeves to Alice's dress. I was tempted to choose a dress, but there was no point having it if dad wouldn't allow me to wear it.

We chat for a while longer and leave with an invitation from Barbara to attend the opening of her shop in Abingdon Road, Kensington. I promise to send her a copy of the finished article after it's printed and I assure her it's going to be glowing.

We've been in her house for nearly two hours and we're absolutely starving by now, so we set off in the direction of the sea front and spot a nice café down one of the side streets. We both order fish and chips as its traditional seaside food and it would be a shame not to indulge ourselves just this once. We have fish and chips as a treat at home occasionally, but I've always been told it tastes better when you're near the sea, and after stuffing my face with a huge piece of battered cod, I would have to agree.

I'm thrilled how the interview has gone and I know the article is going to be a good one, especially as this is the first time Barbara has given an interview to a newspaper. If her business is successful, which I'm beginning to suspect it will be if famous people like Cilla Black and Cathy McGowan are already buying her clothes like she claims, I'll be able to say I was there at the beginning, so fingers crossed she'll do well.

Alice is beside herself with excitement and can't stop herself pulling her dress and my blouse out of her capacious bag to look at them every five minutes. I agree her dress is lovely and fits her petite frame perfectly as though it's been made for her, to which Alice gushingly agrees. I ask her then whether she realised Barbara was taking as many pictures of her face as the dress. She replied she was having too much fun to notice what Barbara was doing which makes her wonder why. I respond by guessing that Barbara had probably taken note of Alice's unusual 'look', as her hair and make-up really complimented the retro-style of her clothes.

By the time we leave the café it's gone three o'clock. Our train home leaves Brighton at five-fifteen, so we decide to walk to the sea front and have a stroll along the pier before we go to the station. I guessed it would take us about five minutes to get to the promenade, but as we're walking along the street that leads to the beach, we notice more people hurrying away from the sea than toward it.

"What's going on?" Alice asks.

"I don't know, but we'll have a quick look," I reply. "Maybe the tide has come in?"

We carry on walking and reach the promenade near to the Grand Hotel and start walking towards the pier but soon realise what's happening, or is just about to happen further along the beach. The wide pavements by the sea wall are littered with abandoned scooters and motorbikes, and the shingle-covered beach is heaving with angry Mods and Rockers wielding all sorts of weapon and you didn't need to be a clairvoyant to foresee what was just about to go down.

"Oh My God," we both yell at the same time.

"Alice! Let's get out of here quick," I scream so we turn on our heels and start walking quickly in the opposite direction from the trouble. We've only made it about thirty yards when we spot a line of leather-wearing, hard-faced Rockers running towards us and it's obvious they're making their way to the beach where the fight is happening and we're in their way.

"Run!" Alice yells so we turn in the opposite direction again, which is now towards the trouble on the beach, and start to run for our lives. Alice is quicker than me because she's wearing proper shoes and also she used to be a really fast sprinter at school despite her lack of height. I'm trying to keep up but my sling-backs are slipping off my feet which makes me stumble on the uneven pavements.

We're getting closer to the fighting and I start running along the edge of the road rather than on the pavement because the surface is smoother. There are no side roads between us and the pier so there's no opportunity to escape. Alice looks behind her to see where I am and I spot the look of horror on her face. I've already guessed we're still being chased by the Rockers and they're quickly catching us up. I just hope they'll ignore us and divert onto the beach as soon as they reach where the action is, but I keep running as I can't take the risk.

We don't dare escape onto the beach because hundreds of Mods and Rockers are having an all-out battle by now. Stones and deckchairs are being hurled in both directions, fists are flying and knives are being brandished and the air is filled with shouts and screams. I'm crying in terror as I'm running because I know I'm going to be caught as I can hear heavy boots on the ground behind me, which means the Rockers haven't chosen to veer off and jump over the wall but are after us. There's not a policeman in sight on the promenade, and any responsible-looking adults have already made a run for it, so there's no-one here who can help us.

"Keep going, Alice," I scream as a pair of strong, leather-covered arms grab me from behind and force me to stop. I try to struggle but it's futile. This guy is twice my size and my chance of escaping is zero.

"Gotcha!" is spat in my ear and then my bag is wrenched from my shoulder.

One of the Rockers gets hold of my hair and pulls it so hard that my head is forced backward so I'm looking up at the sky.

"Nice hair, bitch," he hisses as he towers over me and then he puts his face close to mine and I want to vomit. His teeth are yellow and his breath stinks like rotten eggs. He places a filthy hand on my face and squeezes my cheeks then runs his disgusting tongue over my mouth.

I try to struggle free but I'm now being held by two of his pack and I can't move.

"Whatcha gonna do with her, Jimbo?" one of them says.

"I'm gonna fuck her hard, after I've knifed a few of her Mod friends first of course. You guys can have a go with her afterwards. Hold her here for me and don't you dare touch her until I get back. She's mine d'ya here?" Then he grins at me and put his hands on my breasts and squeezes them. "Nice," he says and licks his disgusting lips. "I'm looking forward to seeing those in the daylight," he adds in a sneering voice.

I lash out with my feet and catch him on the shin. He winces for a second then slaps me hard across my face in retaliation. I scream and he laughs evilly.

"I like it when they struggle," he hisses then slaps me hard across the face again with his other hand.

Jimbo and the other members of his pack jump over the sea wall and run towards the battle, leaving me with two hefty Rockers who are now taking the opportunity to touch me all over my body, totally ignoring 'Jimbo's' instructions. One of them puts his hands between my legs and tries to rip my underwear off but I stomp on his foot as hard as I can which stops him. I start screaming again so the one on my right clamps his hand over my mouth but I bite the inside of it hard and hang on to the skin with my teeth like a dog with a bone. He yelps in pain then punches the back of my head several times with his other hand until I have to let go.

I can see what's happening on the beach and the Rockers definitely have the upper hand at first, but more Mods are running towards the trouble from both directions. I'm not very good at assessing how many people are fighting but there has to be at least three or four hundred down there and it's chaos. I can see boys and girls on both sides covered in blood from head wounds and there are a few bodies lying face down on the stony beach not moving. There are police among the fighting but they are massively outnumbered and are more interested in hanging on to their helmets and avoiding flying missiles than arresting anyone.

My screams are being swallowed up by the noise of screeching seagulls and the mayhem that's happening all around me so I know no-one is going to come to my aid unless Alice can raise the alarm, but I'm not holding out much hope as there's no-one responsible around who could help me. I've already accepted that I'm doomed.

I close my eyes and start sobbing. I'm not stupid. I'd seen the Rocker's scarred face clearly so there's no way he's going to let me survive this to report him to the police. I think about mum and dad, and Mike, and how they'll be heartbroken to lose me. I think about Edward and wish he was here to rescue me, but this isn't going to happen, not unless he's down on the beach with the others and he sees me, but I seriously doubt it. I know he's a Rocker, but I can't imagine he would have anything to do with this side of the culture. If he was arrested, he'd risk losing his livelihood.

Even though it seems like an age, it's probably only about a minute or two since the Rocker punched me in the head and I'm feeling exhausted by now. I can hear more motorbikes pulling up near to where we're standing but I'm crying so much I can't see anything going on around me. Jimbo's thugs carry on molesting me and I haven't stopped twisting and turning to get away from them even though it's futile. I try to open my eyes to see what's happening but my vision is blurred by tears. All I can see is the outline of two men running towards me and they're shouting. I'm terrified that more Rockers are going to assault me but then it's obvious something else is happening as my minders' grip loosens, then they let go of me altogether and I stumble away. They're shouting and cursing so I presume they're being attacked by another group of Rockers, or maybe I've misheard and what I thought were motorbikes are actually scooters, and I'm being rescued by a pack of Mods. I fall to the ground as a fight breaks out all around me and bodies are dropping onto the pavement. I try to get up and run, but instead I feel another pair of strong arms close around me and they scoop me up as if I weighed nothing. I'm crushed against another leather covered chest and I can tell from the studs that are pressing into my cheek that a different Rocker has captured me. The small glimmer of hope I had in my heart is dashed and I sink into despair again.

I start to violently struggle but I freeze with shock when I hear the Rocker whisper in my ear…

"Bella!"

And even though I can't see who's holding me, I can tell that it's _him_ , and now that I'm in his arms I know I'm going to be safe.

* * *

 **Edward**

Saturday 16th May 1964

I spend all day Saturday wallowing in self-pity and drinking my way through my store of alcohol, even though I'd promised myself I wouldn't drink heavily again because of dad, and Harry of course. I know I have to pull myself together and get out of the depressed state I'm in, but until I know where I stand with Bella I won't be happy again.

I think about how many hours we've actually spent together and I can't make it add up to more than three, and that ridiculously short amount of contact with her is what's steering my life at the moment. I contemplate checking myself into some sort of therapy clinic for psychological assessment and treatment. I know they have them in the States, but I'm not certain whether this sort of facility has made it across the Atlantic yet.

I think back to last night and the fact that I hadn't looked back when I walked out of the Ace. That part of my life was over now as the thrill had gone. I was looking for something else instead and it was what Jasper and Alice, and Emmett and Rosie have. I want to be loved, and to be in love. I want the house, the garden, the Labrador and the girl, but I also want to have some fun before I'm too old to enjoy it.

I finally get a call from Jasper. He's in a phone box in Exeter and called to say he's on his way home but not to wait up as he'll be very late. This cheers me up no end because at least I can question him about Bella tomorrow. I'm not going to hold back anymore as I've been admonishing myself all week for not being upfront about knowing her all this time, so it's my own vanity and stupidity that's got me into this situation.

I go to bed feeling slightly more confident that my days without Bella are coming to an end. Hopefully within twenty-four hours I'll know whether she's interested in going out with me and I'd take it from there.

* * *

Sunday 17th May 1964

I wake up late on Sunday morning and can hear Jasper snoring in the next bedroom so I'd slept through his arrival, which isn't surprising considering the amount of alcohol I'd sunk the night before. When I open the curtains I'm greeted by bright sunshine, which is unusual for a Bank Holiday weekend. Also there's a turquoise, cream and white Volkswagen Campervan parked on the opposite side of the road. I haven't seen it there before and wonder whether Jasper purchased it when he was on his sojourn by the sea, which means he must have passed his test by now and got his driving licence through. I chuckle because this van is so 'Jasper'. I've always suspected he isn't really a Mod; he's actually a Beach Boy.

Emmett calls when I'm making my first pot of coffee. Some of the Ace pack are heading to Brighton for the day and he's decided to go down with them as it's a beautiful morning and there's nothing much else going on in London. Rosie has also talked him into going and I guess he's totally under her thumb by now. I tell him I'll pass as I'm not in the mood for a long journey but ask him in the nicest possible way to look after Rosie and to get away if there's any trouble. Emmett reassures me by saying that Sam has heard that the crazy Rockers are all heading to Margate which is a hundred miles away from Brighton so they should be okay.

I'm listening to the radio in the living room when Jasper finally emerges from his bedroom. It's just before one o'clock when he staggers into the living room looking as though he hasn't shaved for a week and has actually been living _on_ a beach. He mumbles "Hi", then sleep-walks down the stairs to the kitchen and pours himself some coffee from the jug, then comes back up, slumps on the sofa and closes his eyes again.

"You look like shit," I declare. "Where the hell were you?"

"North Cornwall," he mutters, still with his eyes closed. "I actually went surfing down there. I had no idea you could surf in Britain; it was fucking brilliant."

"Great," I reply facetiously.

I'm now even more pissed that he's been having fun at the seaside while I've been climbing the walls in boring London waiting for him to come home, then I feel slightly guilty because he only went to get over, or at least come to terms with, the pain of losing Harry.

"So, are you seeing Alice today?" I ask, thinking I might as well get telling him about Bella over and done with.

"Yep, but not until tonight. She's going to Brighton for the day with her mate, Bella. They're seeing some fashion designer about an article Bella's writing for her local paper. She'll be back at about six so I'm meeting them at Victoria Station."

"An article? What does Bella do for a living?"

"She's just started work at some East London newspaper. Apparently she told her previous employer to go fuck themselves and immediately walked into another job. Her brother works there I think. Why do you ask?"

I'm just about to launch into the story about how I know her when the one o'clock news comes on the radio and I stop talking as soon as they mention the word 'Brighton', and what the announcer is saying sinks in.

 _"The BBC are hearing reports that hundreds of Mods and Rockers are heading to the Sussex resorts of Brighton and Hastings for a confrontation. The Police had been tipped off that Margate had been chosen as the venue for a battle on Bank Holiday Monday, so have been completely caught off guard. At the moment only a small number of Mods and Rockers are in the towns, but motorists have spotted large groups of bikers congregating on the roads leading to the coast. The BBC will keep the public informed of developments, but in the meantime the Police have asked holidaymakers to stay away from these two resorts today."_

"Alice!" Jasper shouts out at the same time as I say, "Bella!"

Jasper's eyes widen and I can tell he's now totally awake.

"I know her," I explain as I'm hauling myself out of the chair. "She used to work in the building opposite me. I found out she was Alice's friend a few weeks ago. I haven't had the opportunity to do or say anything about it because of that fucking Enquiry and then Harry died. Since then I've lost track of her. Now I know why."

"What are we going to do? They might be in danger," Jasper replies looking totally frantic.

"I can get to Brighton in just over an hour on Sadie; a bit longer if I take a passenger. Are you up for it."

"Fuck yeah," Jasper replies. "The chances are we won't find them though."

"I don't care. As long as they're not on the beach or anywhere near the trouble we'll know they're okay and we can come home. Get dressed and for God's sake have a shave. You've got fifteen minutes."

I run into Jasper's room and grab my leathers while he's in the bathroom. My hands are shaking as I'm getting dressed as I've got a horrible feeling that Bella's in danger and I'm going to be too late to help her. As soon as I'm dressed I run downstairs and grab the keys to the stable then wheel Sadie out onto the cobbles so I'll be ready to go as soon as Jasper appears. Five minutes later, Jasper hurtles out the door slamming it hard behind him, not bothering to set the alarm. He leaps on the pillion and we're off.

We speed through west London until we get onto the A23 and it's a straight run from there. I don't stop for a rest but keep going, as all I can see in front of me is an image of Bella's terrified face and that spurs me to travel as fast as I dare with Jasper on the back. I thank God he's an experienced passenger as I'm pushing Sadie to the limit on the straight runs. I'm well aware that time is of the essence and know that I'd never be able to live with myself if I was one or two minutes too late to save her. I can imagine what's going through Jasper's mind as well, as he must be beside himself with worry.

I'm also concerned about Emmett and Rosie. If he doesn't get her out of there before the trouble kicks off and Rosie gets hurt, I'll kill him, mate or no mate. I don't care he's twice the size of me. His feet won't touch the ground when I get my hands on him.

We get to the outskirts of Brighton at just before a quarter to three, but I'm forced off the main road as we spot a road block up ahead. The police are obviously stopping any scooter or motorbike entering the town so I know I've got to find another route. Luckily I know this area like the back of my hand as Haslemere is less than an hour away and I've been here many times in my youth. I swing off the A23 and race through some of the small villages and picturesque farmland that surrounds Brighton and eventually I find a clear way into the town.

A church clock shows it's already a quarter past three as I approach the promenade from the east side. Scooters and motorbikes have been abandoned all over the pavements by the sea front and the beach is heaving with Mods and Rockers. There's no police presence on the promenade, but I can see police on the beach where an all-out battle is taking place. At first glance I can't see anyone I recognise, but I'm roughly a hundred yards away from the centre of the action. I'm guessing there's definitely more Rockers out there, but as Jasper and I scan the beach and promenade for our girls, more Mods are running from either side of the beach, basically trapping the Rockers in a pincer movement. The noise of yelling and screaming is deafening and I have to shout out to Jasper to make myself heard.

"Can you see them," I yell.

"No," he yells back. "I'm sure they're not at this end of the beach.

"What do you want to do then?"

"Ride up and down the prom just to make sure they're not at the other end or hiding anywhere nearby. Just keep moving."

"Okay," I agree and restart Sadie's engine.

We're just about to move off when I spot Emmett and Rosie driving past so I shout out Emmett's name and flag them down.

"What the fuck are you doing here? I yell as Emmett skids to a halt. "Get my sister away from this shit, do you hear me?"

"We're going," he shouts back. "We've been down here for hours. It was quiet when we got here but when we realised what was happening we tried to leave. The police wouldn't let me get Bonnie from the car park. I had to give the fuckers five quid in the end; bastards."

As I was about to move off again for a run along the Promenade, Jasper yells in my ear.

"Alice!"

He slides off the pillion and runs towards the exhausted girl who is stumbling along the pavement clutching her bag in front of her. He manages to catch her just as she's about to collapse but Alice refuses to be held even though she's sobbing.

"They've got Bella," she cries and points behind her.

"Who's got Bella?" I shout as I jump off Sadie and run towards her.

"Some Rockers," she sobs. "I'm sorry, Jaz, she told me to keep running."

Emmett doesn't hesitate but turns to speak to Rosie. "Get off Bonnie and stay here until we get back. Eddie and I are going to look for this girl."

Rosie doesn't argue but slides off the bike then puts her arms around Alice who's distraught by now. I run back to Sadie, then Emmett and I roar along the promenade looking for Bella. I'm shaking with rage at the thought she may be being manhandled or worse and my anger is such that I'm contemplating killing anyone who's holding her against her will.

I hear Emmett shout as he's spotted two Rockers wrestling with a girl by the sea wall. I know straight away that it's Bella as I recognise her navy and white coat and I roar with fury. We screech to a halt and leave the bikes by the roadside then run across the Promenade, jumping over abandoned bikes and scooters and yelling threats of death.

As soon as the Rockers spot us they let go of Bella's arms and she drops to the ground like a rag doll. They have about five seconds before we get to them and it's obvious they're trying to retrieve weapons from their inside pockets but we're on top of them before they can arm themselves.

"You fucking bastard," I yell and punch the biggest one square in the face while I'm still running and blood spurts from his smashed nose. He falls backwards and cracks his head on the sea wall and I'm praying I've knocked him unconscious. Emmett's pacifist tendencies are flying out of the window by now and he grabs the other guy with his huge hands. After punching him in the chest several times, he gets hold of his head and smashes the guy's face on his knee then throws him to the ground and stamps on his hip. My guy unfortunately isn't knocked out but struggles to his feet and lunges at me knocking me onto my back, but Emmett hauls him off me with one hand and sets him back onto his feet effortlessly as if the guy is a small child. Before he has a chance to throw a punch, Emmett hits him so hard in the chest his whole body leaves the ground and he lands on his back several feet away.

I struggle to my feet and run over to where Bella is trying to stand. Her clothes and hair are dishevelled and her bright-red cheeks are streaked with mascara where she's been crying. I scoop her up in my arms and crush her to my chest but she struggles against my embrace. I whisper her name in her ear and she instantly stops moving and I know she's realised who's holding her. I press my lips to her forehead and tell her she's safe with me and she relaxes into my body with a whimper.

"Those are the guys James was with in Clacton," Emmett spits as he rubs his knuckles. "He must be nearby," he adds.

"I'll fucking kill him if I ever see him again," I reply angrily. "You get back to Rosie and look after her and tell Jasper to take Alice home. I'll look after Bella now, and thanks, Emmett."

"No worries," he says. "Just don't tell my parents I used my fists if you ever meet them, okay?"

"Deal," I reply.

I carry Bella over to my bike then set her down on the ground.

"Edward," she sobs. "How did you find me?"

"Don't worry about that now," I reply in the calmest voice I can manage in the circumstances. "I need to get you away from here. Do you think you could ride pillion if I go slowly?"

Bella nods her head and does her coat up and I help her onto the back. I climb on and I'm just about to kick-start Sadie when I hear shouting coming from behind us. We both turn to look who it is and Bella screams in terror.

James and about five other Rockers have climbed the sea wall and are running towards us and at least two of them plus James have knives in the air. James' face is a picture of rage and I know if he catches us he'll kill us. He's about a hundred yards away so I've got about ten seconds to get Sadie moving and escape. I kick the starter and her engine springs to life first time which is a miracle. I shout "Hold on," to Bella and we pull away just as he gets to us. I hear him cursing and then he shouts to his pack, "After them!"

Bella is screaming hysterically as she clings on to me but I concentrate on the road ahead, determined to get as much distance between us and that maniac so we can lose them. As I turn the first available corner to get away from the promenade, I look behind me and spot James and the rest of his pack running for their bikes and I know then they are definitely going to attempt to follow us.

As I tear up the narrow streets that lead away from the beach, I hear the distinctive roar of motorbikes behind me and even though I can't see them, I know my worst fears have been realised.

I have absolutely no doubt that if I can't get away from them, Bella will fall into James' perverted clutches and by the end of the day I'll be a dead man.

* * *

 **I genuinely am sorry to leave it there, but what happens next will take a whole chapter to relate. Edward will have to rely on Sadie's speed to get away from James and his pack, but Bella is an inexperienced rider which will slow them down. Terrifying times ahead, but at least they are together now (hooray).**

 **I've used a bit of artistic licence here as there was trouble and violence in Brighton over three days, the 17th, 18th and 19th May - the worst day being Monday 18th (not the Sunday) which is when the really big battle took place, but that didn't fit in with the story-line. I hope you'll forgive me. (You'll see why when we get to Chapter 29).**

FYI

 **Brighton** is only 50 miles away as the crow flies from central London, so anyone with a fast car or motorbike can get down there very quickly. The confrontation on Brighton Beach on 18th May 1964 is well recorded on the internet, and was the fight covered in the film Quadraphenia. It was one of the biggest Mods and Rockers bust-ups in the early 60's and estimates of the numbers that took part over the whole weekend range from between five hundred and a thousand Mods and Rockers. The police were caught totally off guard as Brighton was one of the only resorts that was not heavily policed that day.

Brighton is a lovely town and well worth a visit, especially if you like quaint tea-shops, antiques and unusual jewellery. The fish and chips are good too!

 **Barbara Hulaniki** really did live in Brighton then and ran her **Biba** mail-order business from her home in the early 1960's. She opened her first shop in Kensington in September 1964 in Abingdon Road, then moved to a more central Kensington location in Church Street a few years later. I remember going in the Church Street shop in the very late 60's and trying clothes on in the first ever communal changing room (eeek)! Biba clothes were gorgeous, but I actually preferred the clothes in a neighbouring boutique in Church Street called Bus Stop. Can any of you remember either of them?

Thanks so much to my readers who've sent me their memories of Biba in reviews and PM's. It was great reading them. Also, we have quite a few 'Who' fans reading this which is great.

BTW, when I first saw Ashley Green, who plays Alice in the Twilight movies, she definitely had a Biba 'look', and if you watch the Breaking Dawn 1 DVD, in the extras they talk about how they chose and designed the outfits for each character for the wedding scene. Alice's dress was a 1920's/30's design, as that was the era when she was changed into a vampire.

 **Next chapter will be a thrill ride - whichever way you look at it. The chapter after that isn't half-bad either, (just sayin').**

Joan xx


	29. Chapter 29

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 28**

 **Edward**

I'm yelling at Sadie to go faster, as if she's a racehorse and I'm the jockey encouraging her to use every available muscle to increase her speed. But the urban roads we're racing down aren't clear like a racetrack, but are full of cars and people and red traffic lights that on several occasions I've had to ignore. I speed up then have to slow down, then I speed up again, and each time I accelerate I hear Bella squealing in terror.

Even though I can't see them, I can hear James and his pack behind me like an approaching express train and I wonder whether it's Sadie's distinctive sound that's giving them something to follow if we're out of sight. I dismiss that thought as it would be difficult for them to hear anything over the noise of their own bikes, so I can only guess it's the shocked looks on pedestrians' faces that signals the way I've taken only a few seconds previously and that's what's enabling them to stay on our tail.

We're flying through the narrow Victorian shopping streets, weaving our way around parked cars and lorries and other hazards as I try to escape the following pack. I even bounce Sadie onto the pavement if there's an obstacle ahead but only when it's clear of people. Its fortunate that Sadie's throaty roar is warning pedestrians that something dangerous is approaching and they jump out the way in time, so thankfully I haven't killed or maimed anyone or had any real near-misses yet, which is a miracle considering the speed I'm travelling.

I consider stopping and just begging for help from the people we're passing, or literally driving Sadie into a pub or a shop, but the holidaymakers and residents of Brighton would more than likely tell us to clear off rather than be caught up in a feud between bikers. In their eyes I'd be just another one of those leather-wearing reprobates who'd ruined their bank holiday weekend, and would probably enjoy the spectacle of me being beaten senseless or worse in front of their eyes. I accept there's a fifty-fifty chance this wouldn't happen, but I can't afford to take any chances with Bella's safety.

Every minute we're getting further away from the centre of Brighton and I've been praying we'll run into one of the road blocks I avoided earlier, or even a random lone policeman to ask for protection, but the routes are now clear of any man-made obstructions. I can only presume the authorities have abandoned their plan to stop the invasion and now every police officer on duty has been told to get to the beach and attempt to restore order.

I try shaking the pack off by taking the opposite route to London several times, but it's almost as though they have a tracking device secreted on one of us as they're always behind us, even though they're some distance away. I can't go any faster as I can tell by Bella's shrieks that she's terrified of falling off, so what I gain on the straight runs I lose when I take a bend. If Tanya had been on the back or I'd been on my own, I could've taken corners without slowing down so much, but Bella's biking inexperience is what's allowing James and his pack to gain on us as they would be able to take the corners at a much higher speed. Plus I guess none of their bikes are carrying passengers.

We soon escape the fringes of the town and we're racing along the narrow country lanes that lead inland. My route is taking me through tunnels of ancient trees where the road surface is bathed in dappled sunlight, or alongside low dry-stone walls or tall, dense hedgerows that enclose the rolling farmland which stretches either side as far as the eye can see. On any other day it would be a glorious ride as the sun is already starting to drop in the sky and the fields either side of us are turning gold in the afternoon light, but I have no inclination to pause and look at the scenery. As we hurtle along the winding lanes at reckless speeds, my eyes are fixed forward and I'm concentrating on the road ahead. At the same time I'm praying that no car or tractor is travelling in the opposite direction or there are any obstacles blocking our path as there's no way I'd be able to stop in time on some of the blind bends.

We must be about five or six miles out of Brighton by now and we're racing through a densely wooded area. I can sense Sadie is climbing an incline as her engine is working harder to maintain speed, which means we're on the edge of the South Downs. When we reach the summit of what is probably just a minor hill, I'm greeted by a stunning view of the Sussex countryside spread out below me, and it's as if an old-fashioned patchwork quilt has been dropped from the sky onto the land. The scene is breath-taking with sunlit fields of green and gold stretching to the horizon, only broken by clumps of dark woodland and the occasional farm building or isolated church spire, all sitting under a soft blue sky. I'm curiously and incomprehensively elated that if my life is coming to an end in the next few hours or minutes even, at least my last sight of Earth I'll hopefully take to eternity with me is the magnificent English countryside with her best frock on. Other than having Bella's image in my mind when I pass, I can think of no better picture to sit in my memory before everything goes black, or white, or whatever colour of the rainbow my path to Heaven, Hell or oblivion is painted.

I race down the other side of the slope into a dip then along another straight stretch of road and take the opportunity to glance over my shoulder to see how far behind they are. James hasn't reached the summit yet which could mean that either I'm gaining on them or they've been held up which is more likely. There's been no opportunity to turn off for about a mile other than farmyard tracks, so I'm certain they're still behind me, but I also know I can't afford to relax just yet.

I risk taking the tight bend at the end of this run faster than previously. Bella's thighs grip mine and her arms tighten around my chest and I can feel her going with me this time. She doesn't scream either, so I figure she's learning what to do and is becoming more confident on the bike, but I can't push it as it's too risky. What I need is an even longer stretch of open road where Sadie's speed and acceleration would leave the following pack standing and then I would have a good chance of outrunning them.

I happen to glance down at the speedo on the next straight run and then audibly curse when I see that Sadie's petrol gauge is almost at empty. From feeling elated that I could dare to increase our speed which would give us a good chance of escape, I plunge into a pit of despair and I'm now panicking, as by my reckoning we probably only have about ten miles of fuel left, which probably isn't enough to save us.

My mind starts working rapidly as I don't know what the hell I'm going to do. I start sweating with fear for Bella as it's now almost inevitable they are going to catch us. I don't worry about dying myself, even though James will no doubt take great pleasure in ensuring I have a messy and painful end, but I'm positive if they get hold of Bella they will do things to her that are unimaginable before they kill her, or do something to her that will stop her identifying them to the police. I'm determined this isn't going to happen, but haven't worked out how to save her. I stupidly even worry about Sadie as James would no doubt take her for his own. I would rather drive her into a river than let him get his disgusting hands on her.

I know I've got to shake them off somehow and my eyes flash from side to side looking for somewhere to hide. I contemplate abandoning Bella in a field somewhere and let them carry on following me, but I banish that thought as I wouldn't have time to explain my reasoning and she would think I was only trying to save myself. Also, if they caught me, they would know I'd hidden her somewhere and would go back to look for her, so this idea is a non-starter.

I reckon I'm quite a long way in front of them by now and as I tear down one stretch of road that's lined either side by tall hedgerows, I spot an open gate on the bend ahead that I can see leads into a field where a tall, undistinguishable crop is growing and an idea springs into my head.

I make an instant decision and shout out to Bella, "Hold on really tight to me; we're going off-road into that field."

I don't know whether she's heard me or understood what I'm intending to do, but I have to take this chance to hide. I race towards the gap in the hedge and feel Bella's arms tighten around my chest so I'm confident then she's heard me. As I pull off the speed I'm praying James and his pack aren't at the high point looking down on us yet, as we'd be sitting ducks if they spotted what we're doing, but I'm committed now and it's a risk I have to take.

Sadie bounces across a narrow grass verge and through the gap and I manage to stop her before I do too much damage to the crop. I spin the front wheel to the left and drive her for about twenty yards behind the hedge then shut Sadie's engine down and leap off the bike. I run back to the gate and as I slam it shut behind me I can already hear the bikes in the distance. I try to straighten up the damaged crop so it doesn't look too obvious from the road what we've done, then race back to Bella who is sobbing by now. I know we only have a few more seconds before they're on top of us, so I get between the hedge and Bella to try and mask the colour of her blue coat with my black leathers, just in case one of them spots us through the foliage.

I tell Bella to keep absolutely still so they won't spot anything moving behind the hedge when they fly past but I'm certain that when they realise we're not in front of them anymore they'll come back to look for us so we'll have to move again. The only problem is that I definitely don't have enough fuel to get us back to Brighton and I can't remember passing any petrol stations on the way here, so dashing back in the opposite direction isn't an option.

I'm cradling Bella in my arms when the bikes are on top of us and we both hold our breath as they scream past the gate. Neither of us moves until the sound of the bikes disappear in the distance and I relax for a brief moment. I help Bella climb off the pillion and ask her if she can walk. She nods and whispers, "Yes," so I tell her to keep close to the hedgerow and move as quickly as possible while I push Sadie forward. I follow Bella for about a hundred yards until I spot a natural gap in the crop then call for her to wait as I roll Sadie into the field of wheat or barley or whatever it is, taking care not to damage the crop too much. Sadie feels like she weighs a ton as I'm pushing her up a gentle gradient and over the undulating earth, but I keep going until I'm certain she's invisible from the path next to the hedge then lay her flat on her side and hurry back to where she's waiting for me.

I take hold of her hand and walk her for about another hundred yards further along the hedgerow then indicate we should crouch down so we can creep undetected further into the field. I tuck her in next to me as we sink under the cover of the crop and when I consider we've travelled far enough, I pull her down onto the ground beside me and whisper for her to stay quiet until I'm absolutely certain we've lost our trackers. Bella is still terrified, so I wrap my arms around her and lay absolutely still on the hard ground, listening to the sounds of the countryside around us and for the motorbikes inevitable return.

Under any other circumstances this would be a truly romantic moment. We're surrounded by a stunning landscape, even though we can't see it because we're underneath the crop. The air is fresh and full of the scents associated with summer, like sweet-smelling grass and warm rich earth. The massive sky is a soft, periwinkle blue with white, fluffy clouds lazily meandering from west to east, and the only sounds we can hear is the breeze wafting through the waving grasses, plus the occasional squawk of a bird circling overhead and the persistent hum of flying insects buzzing around us. We are totally alone, lying on a bed of wheat or whatever it is, and all I want to do is stay safely hidden in this idyllic field with Bella in my arms for the rest of my life.

We've been on the ground for about five minutes when we hear the sound we've been dreading and Bella starts to shake violently in my arms again. I hold her close to me and press my lips to the top of her head and I pray silently to any Deity that's listening to preserve Bella's life from these monsters.

The bikes are coming closer and then the engine of each bike stops one by one, and it's plain they've halted at the gate. I'm guessing they've spotted where my bike flew through the gap as I'd permanently flattened some of the crop when I turned Sadie around, and there are probably tyre-marks on the grass verge as well. I just hope and pray I haven't left a trail mark inside the hedgerow. If there's evidence on the ground that I've rolled my bike into the field we're done for.

I can hear James' unmistakeable voice above the others. It rings out against the stillness of the air and his uncouth words are a stain on the tranquillity of this beautiful part of England.

"The fucking bastards hid in here. Fuck that fucking tractor!" he yells and I hear the gate opening with a loud screech and a thud. Bella chokes a sob and I press her face into my chest to stifle any further sounds.

"They've probably gone by now, Jimbo," one of the others replies. "I bet they waited for us to go past then went off in the opposite direction."

"How d'ya know that?" James shouts back, and I can hear the fury in his voice. "They might be hiding in this field for all you know. I'm gonna get 'em if it's the last thing I do. That bitch is mine do ya' hear? I'm having her, and I'm gonna kill Cullen with my bare hands. I don't need my knife to do that."

I can tell that Bella has heard James' threats as she buries her face in my chest and clings to me like a limpet. I realise I'm shaking with fear as well and I start to seriously consider knocking Bella unconscious so she won't have to experience what they're obviously planning to do to her, but I can't bear the thought of her last impression of me being a violent, horrific one.

I can hear them moving in our direction so I take a totally selfish decision. If this is to be my last minute on Earth, then it's going to be a good one. I pull back from Bella then cup her face in one hand and brush her hair away from her face with the other.

"Bella Swan," I whisper, "I know I'm falling in love with you. Can I kiss you, properly this time?"

Bella nods in affirmation so I gently place my lips on hers then slowly apply more pressure. I instantly taste the saltiness of her tears and as my lips settle around hers and as the kiss progresses, I feel as though the world around us is slowly disappearing and we're the only two people left on the planet. Bella's lips part slightly and desperate passion takes over from then on. I gently encourage them to fall further apart and I plunge headlong into the deepest most meaningful kiss of my life. Even though the men who hold the power to end our lives are possibly only a hundred yards away from where we're hiding, I don't care anymore. This moment means everything to me and I feel a strange sense of fulfilment.

My body reacts to her in a way I've never felt before. I'm on fire, and as one of her hands wriggles its way under my jacket and t-shirt and claws its way up my back, and the fingers of her other hand are buried in my hair, I totally lose it and roll on top of her, covering her body with mine. I rain kisses on her face and neck and push my fingers into her glorious hair as she wraps her legs around my hips. I can feel her heat, even through my leather trousers. She's mine, and I'm marking her as mine before James gets his filthy hands on her.

I'm vaguely aware of shouting in the distance but my focus is a hundred percent on Bella. Our kisses become more frantic and my hands start to explore her trembling body as she lies underneath me. She's still wearing her coat which is stopping me from touching her, so I run one hand up her leg until I find the gap between the top of her stockings and her underwear. Just touching her warm skin sends me into a frenzy and I'm turned on in every conceivable way.

It's not until I hear the sound of motorbikes revving up and pulling away that I can truly start to hope that we're not going to be discovered and that Bella is safe. I feel like weeping I'm so relieved and can feel tears forming in my eyes.

"Edward, they're leaving," Bella whispers, which is the first coherent sentence she's spoken to me since I rescued her on the promenade.

"I know," I whisper back as I stroke her hair, "but we're not moving from this spot until I'm absolutely convinced they're gone as they might be hiding along the road somewhere waiting for us to come out."

Bella reaches up and brushes her fingertips across my cheek and stares into my eyes.

"I don't mind staying here forever as long as I'm with you," she replies tenderly. "I want you, Edward Cullen, and it's not because I'm grateful to you for saving my life. I want you in every way because I'm in love with you too."

"Are you sure?" I reply, as I search her face for any doubt.

"I've never been surer of anything in my life. Make love to me, Edward. Make me yours. It won't matter then what happens to me afterwards."

I hesitate because Bella is so young and in an emotional state, but she wants me before James gets his hands on her, and I want her more than I've ever wanted anything or anyone in my whole life. She's above all my material possessions or any human who has ever come close to me, and I'm desperate to show her how much she means to me. If James is waiting for us to emerge from our hiding place, this may be our only chance to be together and I've wasted so much time over the past two months that I'm not going to bypass this opportunity to show her how much I love her, even though in my subconscious I know I'm doing the wrong thing as Bella is in no state to take a rational decision about this.

I'm definitely ready to make love to her as my dick is straining against my leathers. I guess she can feel it too because I'm positioned between her legs, but I need to draw breath and take this slowly as I'm guessing Bella is inexperienced. I also want to savour this moment as I've only ever had sex with girls before; love has never been part of the equation, so this will be a new experience for me as well.

I'm trembling when I unbutton her coat and help her shuffle out of it then I fold it into a neat bundle and place it under her head like a pillow, which will be more comfortable for her and for me. She kicks her shoes off then pulls her skirt up to remove her stockings but I stop her hand.

"You can leave them on," I say gently as I want her to stay clothed just in case James returns and we have to run, but I let her unbutton her blouse so I can slide my hands over her bare skin. She lies back on the ground and I float my fingers over her breasts and the gap between her bra and the top of her skirt. Her skin is so pale against her beautiful, brunette curls, and I want to kiss every inch of it, but I'm anxious not to do anything that will freak her out.

Bella is staring up at me but she doesn't seem nervous at all. The look in her eyes is one of total trust and I can tell she has no doubts that I'll look after her and that makes me fall in love with her even more. I kiss her gently on the lips as my hands explore her body and I tell her how beautiful she is then I kiss her deeply. Our tongues entwine and dance together and she moans as we touch each other and I can tell by the way she's moving underneath me that she's ready for me.

I remove my jacket and kick my boots off then slide my leather trousers over my hips and wriggle out of them as quickly as possible. I wasn't planning on taking my t-shirt off, but Bella gets hold of the hem and pulls it over my head for me then slides her hands over my naked torso as I hover over her.

I collapse on top of her again and kiss her passionately until we're both gasping for air then we roll from side to side, flattening more of the crop, as the desire and craving for each other builds layer upon layer until I think I'm going to explode. I break away and fumble in my jacket pocket for a Johnnie and manage to tear the packet open with my teeth, pull my shorts off with one hand and roll it on in one quick move.

Bella removes her panties and I'm just going to ask her one last time whether she's absolutely sure about this when she whispers, "I'm ready, Edward. Make me yours forever," and I have to swallow hard to stop myself choking when she says those words.

As I gently enter her I tell her she's the only woman I'll ever want again, and as I break her then settle inside her I stare in utter amazement at my brown-haired, brown-eyed girl, and can see true love in the same eyes I first described as ' _brown and deep, like a cup of warm Colombian coffee_ '. I fell in love with the girl who owned those eyes long before I even knew her name, and now my brown-eyed girl is telling me that she loves me too. I draw long breaths to control my emotions as I accept that in this farmer's field, in a unknown part of Sussex, I've finally found the peace and true happiness I'd been searching for, and I resolve to never let this girl go.

Our love-making is slow, gentle, profound, mystical and wonderful. I take care of her. I don't want to hurt or frighten her as I hope this will be the beginning of a lifetime of intimacy together. She trusts me, and I'm not going to betray that trust by letting my carnal instincts take over. Bella is a precious flower which has just opened to the soft air of spring. She'll be the one to drive this relationship to places where the temperature rises to a blistering heat and I'm prepared to patiently wait, as that journey will be so worth waiting for.

Being surrounded by nature adds to the experience and after we've made love we lie in the wheat field or whatever it is, watching the sun as it drops towards the distant horizon and the summer sky turning a hundred shades of pink and orange. I recall my daydreams of having _al fresco_ sex with Bella when I was whiling away the hours at the Enquiry, never thinking in a million years that our first experience would be in a sun-drenched farmer's field under a massive sky. Also, never in a million years, could I have conjured up a daydream that could top this reality.

After we get dressed we stay hidden in the field and talk in whispers about everything that has happened since the day we first laid eyes on one another. I tell her about when I realised Jasper knew her and how ridiculous that coincidence was. I admitted to being the Rocker in the Coach and Horses, but she said she'd worked that out after I'd rescued her from the arsehole in Lyons. We laughed about that. She told me about the confrontation with the bosses at the Express and I told her I'd talked to one of her friends from the typing pool last week and apparently she'd started World War Three up there, as some of the secretaries were refusing to work with the perverts. She was thrilled to bits about that news.

She told me that she'd written me a letter telling me why she wasn't at the Express anymore, hoping I'd contact her. She also told me she'd cried herself to sleep most nights because she thought she'd never see me again. I told her I'd had sleepless nights too, and I'd been fantasising about her all through the Enquiry, and having _al fresco_ sex had been one of my favourite distractions. She thought this especially funny. I told her I was just about to admit to Jasper that I knew her, but the BBC had interrupted our conversation, so Jasper was still in the dark about our weird relationship. Bella said Alice knew all about me, so Jasper would be fully informed by now that his friend was a procrastinating idiot.

Eventually I ask her about what happened on the promenade but she said she didn't want to talk about it for the moment but would tell me later. I accepted her reluctance to relate what James and the other men did to her as she was obviously still traumatised and she started trembling again when she thought about it. I need to think rationally about what to do about James. Now isn't the time to do that as I'm definitely not in a rational state of mind as I want to kill him slowly and painfully, plus Bella is unwilling to re-live the experience and I need to know what he did to her so I can justify my actions. Also, more importantly, I'm not going to spoil what we have now by making her cry again.

We've been talking and kissing in the field for at least a couple of hours when the light starts to noticeably fade and I reluctantly accept we'll have to chance leaving this place. I need to get Bella home, and as it's a clear sky I'm guessing it's going to be a cold night. After we've put our coats on which we've been using as pillows, we try unsuccessfully to straighten the flattened crop where we've been lying then set off to find Sadie, which proves to be really difficult as I'd hidden her so well. When we eventually discover her, Bella has to help me get her back on two wheels as she's a dead weight on her side and her tyres keep slipping on the soft ground. Eventually we manage to get her upright and roll her down to the hedgerow. After picking out all the bits of the crop that are stuck in her spoked wheels, she starts on the third attempt.

It's twilight when we creep out of the field and I scan the road right and left for James and his pack, but they're nowhere to be seen. I'm guessing they've headed back the way we came so I point Sadie in the opposite direction and take off in the hope we'll find a petrol station soon, or at least someone to help us before our fuel runs out.

I find a garage in a picturesque village called Clayton. It's less than a mile from our field, and even though I know this area reasonably well, I was completely unaware of its existence until now. Because we're totally lost, I ask the garage owner for directions to the A23 which fortunately isn't too far away. The garage, thankfully, has a loo because Bella's desperate, plus a public telephone box. I suggest to Bella she should call home to tell her parents she's okay, but she tells me they don't have a phone and I then remember Jasper mentioning this after Jake's accident. I try my own phone number to check whether Jasper has gone back there, but there's no reply so he's probably gone straight to Alice's house. Bella knows their number off by heart, so we try phoning them there but again there's no reply. As there's no other way I can get a message to Alice or Jasper or Bella's family, I leave a message with Carol to tell Emmett and Rosie we were on our way back. I also give Carol Alice's family's number and ask her to keep trying them. Then, if she gets through, ask them to let Bella's parents know she's safe, even if they have to drive round there to tell them.

We set off for home and Bella huddles up close to me for warmth. I can tell she's cold as I can feel her shivering behind me and the air temperature is steadily dropping. I've given her my gloves to wear but there's nothing else I can do to help the situation. I can't give her my jacket as I only have a thin t-shirt underneath and I would pass out if I tried driving for any length of time without protection from the wind.

We don't meet any hold-ups on our way back to the city and I have to take a guess where to leave the A23 and head in the general direction of where Bella lives. I don't know East London at all so have to rely on road signs to direct me towards Poplar. We get hopelessly lost driving across South London as we need to head that way to get across the River Thames via the Blackwall Tunnel and by the time Bella recognises some local landmarks it's already nearly ten o'clock at night. Bella is freezing by now and we're both starving hungry, but I don't dare stop for anything to eat as this would make Bella even later.

We're driving through Poplar when Bella shouts for me to stop the bike so I pull over and jump off wondering what's wrong. She clambers off too and puts her arms around my neck and kisses me.

"You don't have to take me any further, Edward. I can walk the rest of the way. Dad's going to hit the roof when I get in, so you don't have to put yourself in the line of fire."

"Not a chance," I respond forcefully as I wrap my arms around her. "I'm taking you all the way home and I'll face whatever your father's going to throw at me. I'm going to be an important part of your life now, so if your dad's got something to say, let him say it now and get it out the way."

"I love you and don't deserve you," she replies and kisses me again.

"I love you too, Bella, but let's get going and face the music, but remember, nothing your dad's going to say to me is going to change how I feel about you."

We get back on the bike and Bella directs me to her front door but I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't nervous. I know her dad is ex-Army, and a dock worker, and a union shop steward, so he's probably quite a formidable guy, but I haven't done anything wrong apart from fall in love with his daughter. Of course if he guessed what we'd actually got up to in the farmer's field he'd kill me.

The sound of the bike alerts the Swan residence and probably half the street that we've arrived. I see the curtains in Bella's house twitch then seconds later the front door is flung open and her father hurtles down the path as Bella clambers off the bike. He grabs hold of her and crushes her in his arms and holds her in a tight embrace for a few seconds before letting go and checking her over. When he sees that she still has four limbs and no visible signs of trauma he turns to me.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at, keeping my daughter out for hours? We've been worried sick and I was just on the point of contacting the police."

I was about to respond but Bella cut in.

"Dad!" she yells, "If this house had a telephone we could've called you to say we were alright ages ago. But no, you still want to live in the nineteenth century and not have anything to do with today's technology. Don't you dare speak to Edward like that, and don't pass judgement until you know the whole story."

"What story, Isabella? You went to Brighton with Alice this morning and got caught up in a bloody war, and you've come home four hours late with a Rocker, after I warned you not to go on one of those scooter things again."

I was desperate to point out that Sadie was not a 'scooter thing', but considered now wasn't the best time to be a smart-arse.

"Dad, if Edward and Jaz hadn't rescued me and Alice, we would've been caught up in the bloody war as you called it. Edward saved me from being assaulted by another group of Rockers and got physically attacked in the process, so you should be grateful to him you've still got a daughter, and I'm not exaggerating."

Bella's father huffed and I stood on the pavement with my arms folded waiting for his words of gratitude. By this time Bella's mother was on the doorstep and a young guy, who I presume was Bella's brother, was standing behind her grinning.

"Well, I suppose some thanks are in order if that's the case, but you can clear off now...…we don't want your type around here."

"Dad!" Bella yells again but I cut in this time.

"Mr Swan," I hiss in response, and I'm just about to launch into the story about how long I've known Bella and why I went to rescue her, when her brother walks up the path and interrupts me before I have a chance to get started.

"Hey, you're Edward Cullen, aren't you?"

I look over at her brother in amazement as I'm sure I haven't met him before.

"Yes, that's right. How do you know me?"

He doesn't answer me directly but chuckles for a moment before turning to his father.

"Dad, this is the guy… sorry, this is the hot-shot lawyer I was telling you about that represented the dock workers who were challenging the new contracts. Edward Cullen won the court case for the Union against all the odds. At least you can be nice to him for doing that?"

"Is that right?" Bella's father replies suspiciously and his eyes widen when he looks me up and down. I can tell he can't reconcile an obviously untrustworthy leather-wearing Rocker, and definitely an _'inappropriate suiter for his daughter_ ', with the up-standing man-of-the-people lawyer who had been talked about, probably with reverence, at his Union meetings, and I could almost see his mind trying to make sense of that anomaly.

"Yes, that's correct," I confirm smugly, "but I still don't understand how your son recognised me. My picture wasn't in the newspapers."

"Mike reported the story for the local paper. He was at the tribunal both days. He told me you were outstanding and kicked the arses of the lah-di-dah barristers who were trying to shaft us."

He shakes his head in disbelief then walks towards me with his open hand outstretched.

"Look, I'm sorry how I reacted, son. I've been unfair to you and I apologise. I was worried sick about my little girl and when she didn't come home when we expected her to, we thought the worst. There's a lot of kids in hospital according to the news reports and we didn't know what to do for the best."

"That's okay, Mr Swan. No apology necessary as I would feel the same if Bella were my daughter. Anyway, I'd better go; I haven't had anything to eat since this morning so I need to get home, and I'm sure Bella wants to have a bath and get to bed."

"You're not going anywhere," Bella's mum declares as she strides towards me, grabs hold of my arm and pulls me towards the house. "This is the East End young man, and any friend of Bella's is family in our eyes. So in you go, get those boots off and I'll do you a proper East End fry-up and _then_ you can go home, with a full stomach."

There's no point arguing with her so I wheel Sadie into the front garden and follow the Swan's into their tiny house. Bella pushes me towards the living room where 'Charlie' wants to talk politics, while she goes into the kitchen to help her mum with the food.

Before I sit down I ask where the bathroom is as I need to pee and wash my hands before eating. When I come down the stairs, I can overhear Bella talking to her mother so I stop to listen, but I only manage to catch her last few words.

"Mum, I think I've found my Prince."

I hear Bella's mum putting something down as she stops what she's doing and pulls her daughter in for a hug.

"I'd already guessed," she replies in a soft and caring voice. "I can tell you're not the Bella that walked out the door this morning. A mother knows you know? Do you love him?"

"More than you could ever know, mum," she replies and I almost choke.

"Well that's fine by me. Now go and put some toast under the grill because that boy in there is hungry and a way to man's heart is through his stomach, remember that."

"Yes, mum," she replies and I hear her lovely, tinkley laugh. Not many hours ago I never thought I'd hear that sweet sound again.

As Bella and her mother clatter about in the tiny kitchen of this overcrowded council house, I feel as though I can reach out and touch the love and happiness that's surrounding me. Despite the hardships this family have endured over the years, with war, poverty and social injustice, they were rich in the important things in life, which was the stuff money couldn't buy.

I realise then this is why I'd loved Bella from the outset. Despite her cheap clothes and her lowly job in the typing pool, she exuded a sense of optimism with the world and her place in it. She considered herself lucky to just be what she was, and she wasn't resentful about anything, other than the injustice of how she and others were treated because of their humble beginnings. In a world where money, position and status was King, all she wanted from life was to be was happy, because she came from a happy and loving home.

Even before we became one in that Sussex field, I knew I'd found my Princess.

* * *

 **Awww!**

 **I hope you enjoyed that and it was worth waiting for? Only problem is James/Jimbo is still after them and now he is doubly determined to get his own back on Edward. Edward will have to decide whether to report James to the authorities to get him off the street legally or whether to deal with him himself.**

 **James called Edward 'Cullen' rather than Masen in the field, so he's obviously found out who he really is already. Could be worrying.**

FYI

 **Clayton** is a small but very picturesque village about six miles north of Brighton in West Sussex. Remember the name of that place for the future! It sits on the edge of the 'South Downs', which are a range of chalk hills that run across part of the south-east corner of England. If you think that the word 'Down' is an odd word for a hill, it comes from the Old English word 'dun', which literally means hill. The 'North' Downs include the famous White Cliffs of Dover, which are also made of chalk.

 **You'll be able to re-live their 'experience' through Bella's eyes in the next chapter. Even though this story is from Edward and Bella's points of view, I've tried not to repeat myself too much, but this time I've made an exception - I was sure you wouldn't mind!**

Many, many thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review so far. I love reading and responding to all of you. It really is the best part of writing Fanfiction.

Joan xx


	30. Chapter 30

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 29**

 **Edward**

I make it back home just before one o'clock in the morning feeling physically exhausted and mentally shattered, but sleep is a long way off for me because of the events of the last twelve hours. As I pull up outside the stable and clamber off Sadie, I know it will take an alcoholic cosh to knock me into unconsciousness tonight otherwise I'll be staring at my bedroom ceiling for hours.

Jasper's campervan is parked where he left it on Saturday night and the house is in total darkness so I'm guessing he hasn't made it back from Brighton or he'd have left a light on for me. This cheers me up in one respect as I need time to think, but on the other hand it would've been good to have someone to talk to, especially about what to do about the James problem.

I put Sadie to bed for the night and set the garage alarm then step inside my cold, gloomy house that now seems empty and soulless compared to the warm and cheerful place I'd left less than half an hour ago. After I've staggered up the stairs, I switch on every light in every room and turn on the electric fire in an effort to make the house feel cosier and more comfortable, but it still feels like an empty box compared to Bella's home and for the first time in my life I actually feel lonely.

I pour myself a large whiskey and collapse into my armchair and watch the hypnotic fire-effect swirling across the heater, but it isn't making me feel sleepy. Too much is happening in my head and I know I won't rest until I've replayed the events of the day.

Bella and I are in love, there's no doubt about that, but I'm still feeling desperately guilty. She offered herself to me when she was in a highly emotional state; when she probably wasn't thinking clearly about the consequences of her decision. Even though it was the most moving and wonderful experience of my life, I know in my selfish heart I shouldn't have taken advantage of her. I should have loved her in other ways. But there was no going back for Bella now. She had asked me to make her mine and I hadn't really hesitated to be honest. I could give the feeble excuse that I was in a highly emotional state as well, but she's an eighteen year old inexperienced girl and I'm a twenty-five year old _very_ experienced guy. I should have known better.

I pour myself another whiskey and think about Bella's family, who, after accepting the fact that I wasn't a stereotypical knife-wielding, anarchic Rocker, welcomed me into their home with open arms.

I was impressed by all of them, especially her father, Charlie. I realised very quickly that he's a clever, articulate and well-read man. If he'd been swopped at birth with a baby from a middle or upper class family, he could possibly have been a leader of some description? An Army Officer, or maybe even a Member of Parliament, who knows? Instead he became a regular soldier and then a lowly dock worker with no hope of advancement. But he wasn't bitter about his lot. His reason for living, apart from providing for his wife and children, was to strive to make life fairer for people like him. He was in many respects like me, and I was confident that if Bella and I stayed together I would enjoy spending time in his company.

Her brother, Mike, is an incredible guy and I could see him going far in the journalism world. He told me he had an interview with a national newspaper next week and the area he was most interested in researching and reporting on was political corruption. I'm considering whether to introduce him to my friend in the Fabian Society and maybe steer him towards disclosing the dodgy dealings going on in Parliament about contract law. I'd think carefully about that option though, and maybe talk to dad about it first before crossing the line.

While I was talking with Charlie and Mike, Bella's mum, Renee, made me an awesome fry-up of bacon, eggs, mushrooms and tomatoes, plus a mountain of thick, white, buttery toast which I washed down with a huge mug of tea. Charlie and Mike decided they needed feeding as well; their excuse being that worrying about Bella had made them hungry, so poor Renee ended up making them a pile of bacon sandwiches slathered with HP sauce, which is a combination I've never tried before but will do so at the earliest opportunity. Bella just munched her way through a whole pack of buttery crumpets and ended up with a shiny face. If we'd been on our own I would have enjoyed licking every morsel of butter from around her mouth, so maybe this is something I can do in the future?

Mike made his mum sit down while he did the washing-up and Bella pretended to have a coronary when he took off for the kitchen. She couldn't recall Mike ever offering to clear up before, but I guess Mike was clever enough to sense that Renee wanted the opportunity to talk to me as well, so I owed him for being so considerate.

Renee was a typical working-class wife and mother and I guess her main pleasure in life was to keep her family warm and well-fed. She probably had no aspirations for a career other than adding a few pennies to the family pot, but she told me she was exceedingly proud that Bella had been taken on by the Advertiser and now had ambitions higher than a typing pool. She's also clever in other ways and I'm positive she had an ulterior motive when she dragged me into the house to feed me, other than being typically hospitable like most East End folk are. She was watching me carefully as I chatted with Charlie, and even if I hadn't overheard her speaking with Bella, I'd have guessed she knew Bella and I had been intimate.

When it was time for me to leave, Renee followed me out into the hallway. When I'd got my boots on she gave me a hug.

"Thank you for looking after Bella," she whispered in my ear. "You know you're welcome in this house anytime," she added so I bent down and whispered back.

"Bella is and always will be my Princess, Renee, and she's already got my stomach _and_ my heart; in fact she's got every part of me. I'll be back, I promise."

She gave me a broad smile and a wink, which I guess meant she knew I'd overheard her conversation with Bella, and then she disappeared into the kitchen to make sure Mike was doing a good job with the washing up.

Bella appeared in the hall and came out onto the front step with me. I gave her a chaste kiss on her buttery lips then pulled her into my arms and held her tight. I didn't want to leave her, but I could tell she was exhausted and needed to sleep. I gave her one final kiss and told her I loved her and not to have any nightmares, then wheeled Sadie out onto the road and started her up as quietly as possible and roared off in the direction of Kensington.

Riding my bike without her arms wrapped around me and her cheek resting against my back now felt strange as I missed feeling her hands on my chest or her thighs gripping mine when I took a corner. She had become part of my life in every way and the further I travelled away from her the more miserable I became.

I carried on drinking until the whiskey bottle was empty. Luckily I didn't have to get up for work the next morning, which was definitely a good thing considering my state of mind, my physical exhaustion and my impending hangover. Bank Holidays are awesome.

I finally staggered into my bedroom at about three o'clock in the morning and dragged my leathers off, chucking them on the bedroom floor, then fell into bed without washing or even brushing my teeth and slept like the proverbial log.

* * *

 **Bella**

Even though I was exhausted when Edward left, I made myself have a quick bath which took the chill out of my bones and was therapeutic in other ways. Edward had been very gentle, but I was still quite tender 'down there' and wondered whether that was normal. I couldn't ask mum, even though I was pretty sure she knew what we'd been up to because of what she said, but that was a line I just couldn't cross.

I slid under my covers wishing Edward was here with me and not because I wanted a repeat performance; I just wanted to feel his arms around me. I was so in love with him I wanted to cry and I hoped he was lying in his bed thinking about me in the same way. He said he loved me, and I was sure when he said it that he wasn't lying, but whether he would still love me in six weeks or six months' time remained to be seen. Whatever happens to us in the future, I'll never regret any part of what took place in the field as I couldn't imagine anyone's first time being more wonderful.

I must have dropped off then, as the next thing I remember is the alarm going off at seven. I'd set it to wake me yesterday morning so I could get up early to get ready for Brighton and I'd forgotten to disable it before I went to bed, so I bash it several times with my hand until the deafening noise stops. I try to get back to sleep but it's hopeless, because all I can think about is Edward and what happened yesterday. In the end I give up trying to switch off and turn the radio on to listen to some music. I'm so warm and comfy tucked up in my blankets and I'm not hungry because I'd eaten my whole weight in crumpets last night, so there was no need for me to get up any time soon.

I can't help going over what happened in the field again. My intention to remain a virgin, at least until I got engaged, totally caved as soon as Edward put his arms around me while we were lying on the ground. I'd daydreamed about my 'first time' ever since becoming sexually aware in my early teens, but making love while hiding in a field of wheat, still almost fully clothed and being hunted by people wanting to kill you, was not a scenario I'd ever imagined.

I could still feel him inside me. When he pushed himself in for the first time it felt…glorious. I was expecting it to hurt, but it didn't hurt at all. I felt something go, but he was so gentle there was no pain. I could tell he was in an emotional state when he stilled inside me as his body was trembling when he lay on top of me. His face was buried in my hair and his arms were either side of my head, so I held him and told him how much I loved him and that I trusted him completely.

I remember how soft and warm his skin was when I ran my hands over the muscles on his back. Edward has a magnificent body but it wasn't until he started moving that I really felt his power, even though I could tell he was holding back. The sun was behind his head, and when I looked up at him it was like he was glowing, as he had a soft halo surrounding him. His eyes were black with desire and his hair was ruffled from being on the bike and was flopping over his forehead. I couldn't resist running my fingers through it because doing that had been one of my favourite fantasies when I'd been dreaming about him over the past seven weeks, especially before I went to sleep when I would imagine him lying on top of me, gazing into my eyes.

He was silent when he started moving inside me, but I could tell by his face that every thrust meant something to him and I quickly fell under his spell. I was mesmerised by his expressions when he hovered over me; his weight being supported by his forearms as he worked towards his climax. Occasionally his forehead would touch mine as he looked down to see where we were joined and then he would kiss me so tenderly then tell me I was the only woman he would ever love again. I remember wrapping my legs around his hips so he could go deeper, and when he pushed himself in as far as was physically possible he cried out before closing his eyes so he could relish the moment.

I could tell he was close just by the sounds he was making and I was feeling a strange sensation building up inside of me as well. It was like I was climbing towards something and it was taking control of my body and mind. I remember closing my eyes to help me concentrate on what was happening to me, but Edward's movements changed and I opened my eyes again just in time to see his face distort with pleasure and I guessed he was reaching his climax. I watched his face as his eyes rolled back and then he clenched them shut as he thrust into me several times much harder than before. Then he stilled and stared straight into my eyes then collapsed on top of me with a loud sigh and his body trembled for a few seconds.

"God, I love you," he whispered as he settled himself on top of me; burying his face in my hair and nuzzling into my neck. He obviously hadn't shaved that morning as I'd noticed his five o'clock shadow as soon as I saw him properly on the promenade. I could feel the stubble on his cheeks and chin rubbing against my skin like an emery board. I didn't think I would like it, but it was strangely comforting in a weird sort of way.

I relaxed under him and had to wriggle around to make myself more comfortable. He was heavy, and even though I was lying on flattened wheat, the ground was still hard on my back, but I adored feeling the weight of him on top of me. As we lay together, still intimately joined, I kept my arms loosely hugging his back and my legs wrapped around his hips, and looked beyond the tousled hair of this exquisite man and up into a baby-blue sky that was now lightly streaked with the pinks and reds of a glorious sunset to come. I remember thinking that I'd never felt more content in my life than I was right then. Even the thought that there was the possibility that James and his gang were waiting to ambush us as soon as we emerged from the field, nothing could take anything away from this moment.

The memory of this blissful time will hopefully stay with me for the rest of my life, and as I lie under my warm bed-covers, I pray that Edward will still want me when I see him again. I've heard of girls being dumped immediately after giving their guy what they want and I hoped Edward wasn't one of those guys, but I still curl into a protective ball as I imagine him telling me he doesn't want me anymore, especially as he'd made no firm arrangements to see me again when he left me on the doorstep last night. I start to panic as I know my world would fall apart if this happened to me and I shudder at the prospect.

Between each record, the DJs on Radio Caroline are talking non-stop about the Battle of Brighton Beach, which by all accounts was horrific, with estimates of the numbers taking part being between five hundred and a thousand with quite a few people getting injured. The guy reading the news said that the police are using photographs taken by local reporters to try and track down some of the main trouble-makers which is a good thing. Over fifty people had been arrested so far and I hoped and prayed that James was or would soon be one of them, or that his face is up on a board in a police station at least. From what Edward told me about him, he's totally out of control and will probably kill someone one day if he isn't stopped.

I try to blot what happened out of my mind but it's impossible. I can still feel his hands on me and smell his disgusting breath when he licked my face. Being slapped and punched was awful and shocking, but his threats of what he wanted to do to me, and what possibly could have happened to me when he got back from the beach, are what I can't deal with at the moment. Being held and molested by the two thugs was bad, but being chased by James and his pack was even more terrifying as I could imagine James' rage escalating tenfold as we tried to escape. I was petrified because of what was in store for me if they caught us, but if I'd had to witness Edward being attacked in front of me, I wouldn't have wanted to survive because I couldn't have lived with the guilt that he'd been maimed or killed while trying to rescue me.

I know I need to talk to someone about what happened otherwise I'll go crazy, so hopefully I'll see Alice sometime today as she'll be able to give me some good advice. I wonder then how she got back from Brighton as it must have been chaos in the town after the fight.

I'm really relieved that today is a Bank Holiday as I'm still physically and emotionally exhausted. I'll call Alice later on as I suspect she'll be having a lie-in as well, and then I wonder whether she managed to hang on to her bag and our Biba clothes. I was relieved to hear she was safe, as Edward had told me how Jasper had found her staggering along the promenade, and that was another thing I had to get my head around. I still couldn't believe that the love of Alice's life was Edward's cousin who was actually living with him. The coincidence was a million to one, but I couldn't be happier because if we stayed together as couples, it would mean I would be… err….Alice's cousin-in-law...in law. Also, Edward's sister, who I was dying to meet as she sounds great, was going out with Edward's best friend who's American. I'd never met anyone from America before, so this was something else to look forward to.

I eventually have to crawl out of my lovely warm bed because I need to pee and decide to stay up. I have a quick wash and get dressed in sloppy clothes and wander downstairs. Mum is doing the ironing so I make tea for both of us and join her in the living room. She had some good news for me.

"Your dad's going to sort out a telephone at last. There's a waiting list for installation, but he knows some of their Union people which might shoot us to the top of the list. It might only be a week or so before we get one."

I sort-of cheered but knew I couldn't crow over getting my own way at last. Hearing the news reports this morning made me realise what mum and dad had probably been through. Mum gave me one of her 'looks' and I knew I needed to keep my mouth shut on this one when I saw dad next.

"Yesterday was the final straw for him, Bella. He was beside himself with worry; well we both were. He knew it was his own stubbornness which had made the situation worse, and for once he owned up to being in the wrong."

"Every cloud has a silver lining," I joked, but mum shook her head.

"He's got a lot on his mind, Bella. He knows the management at the docks haven't given up trying to change the contracts as they've been tight-lipped at all the meetings he's been to. There's something going on and he knows it's not good. There may be strikes fairly soon which means no money apart from my pittance coming into the house. You get where I'm coming from?"

"Yes mum," I reply. "Well at least you'll have my money, and if dad's on strike you can have all of it bar my bus fare."

"Thank you, Bella. Mike said the same thing, which means I've brought you two up properly."

I laugh at mum complimenting herself, but I knew there was no other option. I made a mental note to tell Edward what mum said, but I couldn't see how he could help at this stage.

It's just after midday and I'm contemplating getting myself something to eat when there's a bang at the door. Mum answers it and shouts out that it's Alice and Jaz. I jump out of my chair and run into the hall where Alice greets me with an all-encompassing hug and she won't let me go.

"Bella!" she cries. "I'm sorry I ran off. I was so scared."

"That's okay, Alice," I reply anxiously as I don't want mum to know how serious the situation had been yesterday, even though I'd hinted at it when dad was arguing with Edward last night.

"Edward and Emmett rescued me from those horrible _boys_ ," I emphasised the word 'boys' and gave her a fixed stare as if to say 'don't drop me in it, please'. Thankfully Alice picks up on my subliminal message straight away and gives an Oscar-worthy performance.

"They were obnoxious oafs, weren't they, Bella. They just wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. Luckily our boys made them see sense, eventually."

"That's right, Alice," I reply loudly and I hope we've got away with it. If mum and dad really knew what happened, they would be dragging me to the police station straight away and I really wanted to forget about those terrible few minutes when I thought I was going to be raped then murdered and the chase afterwards. I know it was selfish of me, but re-living it in front of a detective and my parents is not something I can cope with at the moment.

I notice that Alice is wearing her Biba dress under her coat so I'm amazed she managed to hang onto her bag while she was running. Before I have the chance to ask whether she still has my blouse, she pulls it out of her bag with a flourish and hands it to me.

"You didn't think I'd give these up, do you? Wild horses wouldn't have made me abandon my bag, never mind a pack of pathetic Rockers."

"Alice!" I scream and start running up and down on the spot like a five year old seeing Father Christmas for the first time.

I shoot into the living room and show mum and she agrees it's beautiful then Alice takes her coat off and does a twirl in her dress and that gets a 'thumbs-up' as well, even though I can tell that mum thinks it's too short.

Jaz is leaning against the wall watching all this with a smirk on his face and I notice he hasn't had a shave, which could mean he hasn't been home yet, but I don't make any comment. I'll wait to get the whole story from Alice which I no doubt will.

"Do you want a cup of tea?" I ask Alice and Jasper politely.

"No thanks, we're going back to Edward and Jasper's place so we dropped by to see if you would like to come too?"

I note she's calling Jaz 'Jasper' now, but I don't comment on this either. I look at mum and she nods her head.

"Go and enjoy yourself, Bella," she says, "but for heaven's sake don't be back late tonight. I don't think dad could survive another night like last night."

"How are we getting there?" I ask Alice excitedly.

"My dad's sitting outside in the car. He's going to drop us off."

"Okay, give me five minutes to change."

I run upstairs, slap a bit of make-up on and brush my hair into a ponytail then wriggle into my tight black slacks that stop just above the ankle and slip on my new blouse which matches perfectly. Feeling very modern and trendy I skip down the stairs and out the door.

Alice and Jaz…Jasper are sitting together in the back, so I jump into the front seat and say 'Hi' to Alice's dad and we're off, but much much much too slowly. I can't guess how long it will take to drive to Kensington because I've never been there before, but it isn't anywhere near quick enough as I want so desperately to be in Edward's arms again.

* * *

 **Edward**

I wake up with an almighty hangover, but at least the alcohol knocked me out sufficiently to get a night of unbroken sleep which is what I needed after yesterday. I stare through half-open eyes at the luminous hands on the clock and at first glance it looks like it's saying it's twelve-fifteen, but I can't have slept for over nine hours, could I? I haven't slept this long since I was a teenager.

I lie in semi-darkness gazing at the ceiling while trying to calculate whether I can hang on a bit longer before I have to get up and use the bathroom. I feel slightly dizzy when I lift my head off the pillow and try to get my eyes to focus on the lampshade dangling above me, but give up and close my eyes again. Drinking half a bottle of whiskey when you're feeling down, when you should actually have been feeling elated, was not a good move in anybody's book.

Eventually I stagger into the bathroom to relieve myself then look at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are blood-shot; I haven't shaved for two days so I look like a vagrant; my mouth tastes gross and the t-shirt I'm wearing smells disgusting, so I pull it over my head and chuck it on the floor. I run my fingers through my hair to train it away from my forehead but it falls back over my eyes again so I give up.

I'm trying to decide whether to have a shower first or get some caffeine into me before doing anything else when I hear the front door opening. Presuming its Jasper coming home at last, I wander to the top of the stairs and look down, only to see Jasper, Alice and Bella standing in my small hallway grinning up at me. Luckily I'd gone to bed last night wearing underwear which is unusual for me as I usually sleep naked, but I know I must look a sight.

"Thanks for the warning," I hiss at Jasper who's laughing at me.

"Thought it might be a nice surprise, you miserable git," he answers back then starts coming up the stairs with the girls behind him.

"Good Morning, Edward, or should I say 'Good Afternoon'?" Alice pipes up brightly as she passes me.

"Afternoon," I reply grumpily. "Can you at least keep the volume down; I've got a roaring headache?"

"Hello Edward," Bella whispers sheepishly. "Did we wake you?"

I feel guilty then for being so ratty, and seeing Bella looking gorgeous in a beautiful blouse and _very_ tight slacks is not what I need when I'm only wearing _very_ thin cotton shorts.

"No, you didn't wake me," I reply in a softer voice. "I was in the bathroom and was just about to have a shower then make some coffee. Make yourself comfortable, I won't be long."

I make it to the bathroom before it becomes obvious that just _seeing_ Bella is turning me on. While the shower is warming up I brush my teeth extra hard and gargle with mouthwash, hoping my morning breath hasn't made Bella want to vomit. The shower brings me back to life and after I've washed my hair and shaved, I feel almost human again.

I wrap a towel around my hips and dash into the bedroom to get dressed then grab the smartest pair of jeans I own and a black t-shirt. I debate whether to put socks and shoes on but decide that's a bit formal so slip on my brown suede moccasins. I have a quick tidy-up of my bedroom and hang my leathers in Jasper's room, just in case Bella wants to have a look around as I don't want her to think I'm a slob.

When I look in the living room no-one's there but I can hear voices coming from the kitchen. I run downstairs and find Alice and Bella, but no Jasper.

"He went in the bathroom when you came out," Alice enlightens me then places a mug of coffee in front of me.

Even though I'm desperate for a drink and some pain killers, my priority is Bella who's sitting on one of my kitchen stools looking anxious. I go over and pull her off the seat into my arms and kiss the top of her head.

"Seeing you come through the door was the best surprise ever," I reassure her and I feel her relax in my arms. I can't understand why she looks so tense but I'm determined to find out why later on.

"You've got a lovely house, Edward," she says as she snuggles into my chest.

"Thanks," I reply. "I'll give you a guided tour later on, okay?"

Bella nods and smiles up at me so I bend down and give her a quick kiss on the lips.

I sit on the stool next to her and ask Alice what happened after Emmett and I went to find James. I'm guessing all of us are still completely in the dark as to what each couple did when we went our separate ways, and nobody has heard from Emmett or Rosie yet, but I have to presume they got home without any problems. I was interested to know where Jasper spent the night though, even though it was none of my business.

"It was pandemonium, Edward," she starts excitedly. "After you raced off with Emmett to find Bella, we stayed where you left us so you could find us again but almost straight away the Mods and Rockers started pouring off the beach onto the promenade and we got caught up in the mayhem. Hundreds more police in paddy wagons were turning up by then and Jasper got grabbed by one of them, but Rosie convinced the policeman he had nothing to do with it. I don't know how she did it but he believed her and let Jasper go."

I chuckle as I could imagine what happened and could easily believe it. Rosie in full-rant is formidable because she's had the best-ever teacher in negotiating skills; our mother. I would guess the policeman is probably in therapy by now. Alice carries on.

"Emmett found us and told us you'd rescued Bella and were leaving together, so Jasper told him to get Rosie away from the trouble which he did then we headed for the station. Unfortunately every other holidaymaker in Brighton was doing the same thing and even though we both had return tickets because I still had Bella's in my purse, they wouldn't let us on the platforms because they were dangerously overcrowded and people were getting really angry. Then the police turned up at the station and stopped anyone getting on a train apart from old people and adults with small children. They were looking for any of the trouble-makers who hadn't escaped on scooters or motorbikes which is understandable, so we decided to hang about in Brighton for a few hours and try again later."

"So when did you get back to London?" I ask.

"We didn't. I telephoned home and told my dad what was happening and that we were safe. He told me to stay put and to call him back half an hour later which I did. When I spoke to him again, he said rather than come down to get us in the car because the traffic would be horrendous by then, he'd phoned a friend of his who ran a hotel on the outskirts of Brighton and fixed us up with two single rooms for the night. We had some dinner in the town then got a local taxi to take us there and came back this morning."

"You have very cool parents," I commented.

"They trust me, Edward, but they also like Jasper very much."

"That's nice to know," Jasper says when he appears in the kitchen at that moment, now clean, shaved and in fresh clothes. "I like your parents very much too, and I agree; they're cool." Then he turns to me. "So what happened to you two yesterday then?"

I look over at Bella and she's looking nervous again. I knew I had to divert the conversation away from what happened as everything was too raw, for her and for me.

"If I tell you that Bella had a terrifying experience when she was grabbed by the Rockers and leave it like that for the moment, would it be okay? We survived, so let's put what happened yesterday down to experience and resolve to try and stay out of danger again."

They all agree and Jasper starts rummaging through the fridge as he's declared he's going to make us all 'brunch', which is a word I'd never heard before. He tells us it's a combination of breakfast and lunch and is used extensively in California where apparently most of the population don't bother getting out of bed until lunchtime.

As I watch Jasper throwing ingredients into bowls and frying pans and the girls are talking amongst themselves, I think about my statement about 'putting what happened down to experience', which is a complete lie. There's no way I'm going to let James' attack go unpunished, but I'm keeping this decision from Bella for the moment, but we need to talk about what to do very soon. I truly believe James was deadly serious when he said he was going to get us if it was the last thing he was going to do, but whatever I decide, I'll need her total support on how I'm going deal with it.

James is a dangerous menace and shouldn't be on the streets. In fact I would go so far as to say he's a psychopath, and if he hasn't done so already, I'm sure given the opportunity he would commit rape or worse in the future. I've already made up my mind that it's my civic duty to ensure he's arrested and taken off the streets as soon as possible and I'll start that ball rolling tomorrow if Bella is in agreement.

Jasper rustles up some Spanish omelettes and salad which go down a treat, then the four of us share a whole block of Raspberry Ripple ice cream using one bowl and four spoons. The girls offer to wash up afterwards so Jasper and I leave them to it and go upstairs. I can tell he wants to talk to me about something in private because he's been jerking his head towards the kitchen door and even winked at me a couple of times.

When we get upstairs I ask him what's up?

He's pacing up and down the carpet like a caged animal before he takes a deep breath and blurts out in a rush…

"I'm going to ask Alice to marry me. I've made my mind up about what I want to do with my life and I want her to be part of it. I get that I've only known her since the beginning of March, but I know she genuinely loves me and I love her."

Jasper stops pacing and takes a deep breath, then drops down on the sofa and puts his head in his hands before carrying on.

"It's partly because I've inherited Harry's business that I want to marry her now, Edward. I really want her to be involved with what I'm going to do with my life from day one," he starts explaining, "If for some reason Alice doesn't want to marry me and I eventually end up on the market again, I'm always going to be suspicious of any girl I meet in the future, as she might only want me for my money. Alice told me she loved me long before Harry died and before she knew anything about my family. Even if she's already worked out that I'm wealthy now, I know she loves me for me. What do you think?"

"Does what I think matter?" I ask.

"Not really, but I'd still like your opinion."

"Before I give you the benefit of it," I reply, "You said you've decided what you wanted to do with your life; do you want to tell me this as well?"

Jasper gets up from the sofa and wanders over to the window and looks down to where his campervan is parked.

"Last week I had the most amazing time in North Cornwall. The beaches along the coast are stunning and totally unspoilt and the waves are brilliant for surfing. They're not anywhere near California's league, but they're good enough for fun and excitement and the best you're going to get in England. There's already a small surfing community down there which moves onto the beaches between Fistral and Watergate every April. They camp or stay in hostels in the area until the end of the summer just surfing and having fun like they do on the West Coast of America.

"I bought the campervan just before coming home and drove up and down the coast one day and went into a few estate agents on the pretext of buying a plot of land so I could build house. I discovered there's land for sale from Newquay in the south and as far up as Bedruthan and Diggory Island in the north, and the area is ripe for development. I'm positive surfing is going to be huge in the future and I'm determined to ensure any development in the area is done sympathetically otherwise the coast will be ruined. I want to design my own surf boards and wetsuits as well and employ local people to make them. I've got a hundred and one different ideas for the place and I want to take Alice with me as my partner and my wife."

"Do you think she'll want to live that far away from London and her family?"

"I don't know. I'm going to take her out this afternoon and talk to her about it. I know I'm being impulsive but it just seems right."

"Do you think you know her well enough by now? What I mean is, are you sure you're….compatible?"

I raise my eyebrows when I say the last word as I want him to get what I'm implying.

"Yes, Edward. We're totally compatible. We discovered that last night, three times. I'm pretty sure you'd already presumed we only bothered to use one of the single rooms in the hotel and it was magical. However, there's a chance she may be pregnant because I didn't use any protection. Unlike you, I don't carry around a stash of Johnnies in my inside pockets for emergencies."

"Shit," I say and I'm surprised he'd taken the risk. "The next few weeks are going to be hell."

Jasper didn't comment but shrugged his shoulders.

"So, what do you think? Are you going to give me the usual speech about 'marry in haste, repent at leisure', or do you just think I'm nuts?"

"I don't think you're nuts. I do think you're too young to get married but at least you've seen a bit of the world, which is more than I've done. You don't have any money worries apart from having too much of the stuff and Alice seems like a really nice girl. But, you've just been through bereavement _and_ you've just discovered how you came into the world which has shocked you I know. My only concern is I think you're searching for some stability in your life and you've set Alice up as your anchor."

Jasper nods his head in agreement. "You're right of course. Alice is the rock I've been crashing against even before Harry died. I've begun to rely on her for my own sanity, which is one of the main reasons I went to Cornwall. I needed to discover whether I could manage being without her, but I couldn't even last a couple of days without calling her. She's like the best drug ever. On the journey down to Brighton I was imagining what life would be like if something awful had happened to her and I regretted not proposing sooner. When I saw her staggering towards me but Bella had been left behind, I felt as though I'd been given a second chance."

Jasper's words struck a chord with me. When I was at the hospital anxiously waiting for someone to come and tell me whether dad was alive or already dead, I just wanted the chance to speak to him again; to apologise for letting him down and to let him know I loved him. My prayers were answered and I got the chance, unlike Jasper when Harry died. Like Jasper, I'd also been panicking on the way down to Brighton as I had a horrible feeling Bella was in danger, but I was still counting on Bella having the good sense to run away from trouble. Little did I know trouble would run after her and she wouldn't be able to escape quickly enough.

I stood up and walked over to Jasper and shook his hand.

"Go for it then," I said. "But you've got to promise to tell me what her father says when he asks you what your prospects are. That will be one hell of a conversation."

Jasper laughs as both he and I know he's now one of the most eligible bachelors in Britain without a title.

"I'll tell him what my plans for Cornwall are, but to be honest I'm just going to tell him I plan on loving Alice for the rest of my life."

I can hear the girls coming up the stairs and they're laughing and giggling about something.

"What have you boys been talking about?" Alice asks and she stares at me as if she can read my mind which is quite unnerving.

"Nothing important," Jasper replies for me and goes over to her and kisses her.

"Alice, you're coming with me for a drive. We're leaving these two love-birds alone for a while. Bella, I'll be back here at nine to take you and Alice home, okay?"

"Okay Jasper," Bella squeaks.

With that, Jasper and Alice hurry down the stairs and out the door. Bella and I wander over to the window and watch them laughing together as they climb into the campervan. As they drive away, tooting the horn and waving out the windows, Bella slides her arms around me and rests her head against my chest.

"What would you like to do now," I ask as I wrap her in my arms.

"Well….we could play cards, or watch some TV, or we could go for a walk...or you could take me on the guided tour of the house you promised me, which would include your bedroom of course, and I suppose … you could help me decide whether I prefer being made love to in a field where the ground is very very hard, or on a nice, comfy bed."

"Decisions, decisions," I reply eagerly and thank my lucky stars for having this girl in my life.

I pick her up, throw her over my shoulder, march into the bedroom and toss her onto the bed. Bella squeals excitedly while she's kicking her shoes off, then she starts unbuttoning her blouse.

"You've no idea how good I'm going to make you feel," I say in a low voice as I strip off my t-shirt and undo the top button of my jeans.

"Oh I do," she replies. "I wrote a brilliant article for the Advertiser about female orgasms last week. I'll let you read it one day."

I don't know whether she's joking or not, but I stand at the bottom of the bed looking down at this beautiful girl who has just taken my breath away.

"I fucking love you," I stutter without thinking.

"Show me," she tantalizingly replies.

So I did…

four times….

just to beat Jasper's record.

* * *

 **And if you don't believe Edward's claim, read the next chapter from Bella's point of view. Ooo la la!**

FYI

Just out of interest, I looked up how much a **Mews House** in Kensington would cost to buy nowadays. The prices range from £1.5 million for a small, two bedroomed un-modernized mews in a not-as-nice area as Edward's, to £9.5 million for a top-of-the-range mews that's been totally done up and has had the 'stable' converted into living accommodation and bedrooms put in the roof. The world has gone mad!

Like Branston Pickle, **HP Sauce** is a British national institution and a lot of people eat it with their bacon at breakfast (I don't - bacon is awesome enough on its own). It's a thick brown sauce, the consistency of ketchup, that's quite spicy and really nice. It's called 'HP' because the recipe for it originated in the Houses of Parliament, which is why there's a picture of Big Ben and the Parliament buildings on the label. British readers, if you don't believe me, go to your cupboard/fridge and check it out.

When I first started writing this story I had never visited **North Cornwall** before (I know, I'm ashamed), so had to get Google Maps up to find the places Jasper mentions, like Watergate Bay which I'd never heard of. My friend Julia, who is reading this story, (Hi Julia), gave me the opportunity to visit the area with her a few weeks ago, and while we were walking along the cliffs near to Mawgan Porth, Julia spotted a map of the coastline showing **Diggory** **Island** , which is a small, uninhabited island north of Bedruthan Steps, which was near to where we were staying. We both hooted with laughter as we immediately thought of Cedric Diggory, our favourite actor's first major role (Julia is Rob-obsessed as well). So, I had to include it in the story.

 **It's not just 'sex' in the next chapter (I can hear you going 'aww shucks'). Edward and Bella have to talk about James and other things and Edward reports James to the police (I can hear you going 'Yay!'). BTW - you guys are a bloodthirsty lot - quite a few of you are rooting for James to be splatted across the highway somewhere - wonderful stuff x**

Joan xx


	31. Chapter 31

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 30**

 **Bella**

If I thought Edward looked sexy in his tight leathers when he confronted me in the Coach and Horses, that was nothing to seeing him standing at the top of the stairs, practically naked, his hair all tousled and his eyes all sleepy. I wanted to race up the stairs, drag him into his bedroom, lock the door and have him all to myself for the rest of the day, but of course I had to restrain myself because Jasper and Alice were there. Also I needed to be absolutely sure he still wanted me. When he kissed me in the kitchen after he'd had his shower, I let myself relax as I felt confident I'd survived a possible 'morning after the night before' breakup and told myself not to be so stupid again.

I had to wait nearly two hours for Alice and Jasper to leave before behaving like a complete hussy and asking him to take me to his bed, which is where I am now, lying totally naked on top of this gorgeous 'also totally naked' man who is snoring gently beneath me.

I'm not surprised he's exhausted. If sex was an Olympic sport, he'd be the gold medal winner. I realise now how much he had restrained himself in the field, as I'd seen (and felt) a totally different Edward to yesterday, and I liked this version of Edward very much indeed. Of course I also realised that to do what he did must have taken an awful lot of training, so I'm betting Edward's past is littered with girls who have in effect been 'practised on', and I'm the beneficiary of their heroic bounty. Hooray for me.

I glance over at the clock and it's already seven in the evening. We've only got out of bed once to pee, otherwise we've been here for nearly five hours. During that time he's made love to me once like in the field, with him on top, once from behind but I didn't like it because I couldn't see or touch him, so he flipped me over and finished me off like normal but with my knees almost next to my ears, which was very thrilling I must say. The third time he asked me to sit on top of him which felt incredible as well as he seemed to be in much deeper. He also used his fingers to get me off while I was bouncing on him, and that was unbelievably awesome. ('Awesome', a new word to add to my vocabulary, and a good idea for an article; The Teenage Vernacular).

'Getting off' was a revelation too. He knew exactly where to touch me in order to send me flying towards the ceiling. He made me 'come' as he described it before he entered me the first time and I was still as high as a kite when he was pounding into me, so much so that I 'came' again before he climaxed. If I'd known sex was as good as this I would've been walking the streets from the age of fourteen. Well actually I wouldn't, that's an exaggeration, but you can see where I'm coming from. So by my workings out, he's come three times and I've come four, which is a bit unfair really. I might have to do something about that in the next two hours before Jasper picks me up. I don't want Edward to think I'm taking advantage.

He's still snoring so I look around at his room which is immaculately tidy, unlike Mike's bedroom which is always a disgusting tip. There's a picture in a photo frame of him and a girl on the window sill which worried me at first, but I've guessed it's his sister as they have practically the same smile. Apart from this photo, there are no other personal mementos around the house which surprises me, as everybody else's homes I've been in are like picture galleries compared to Edward's.

My tummy rumbles embarrassingly loudly, but I'm not surprised as I must have worked off the omelette, the ice cream and a thousand extra calories in the last five hours and I giggle at the thought. Edward is the best diet ever invented, not that I need to diet as luckily I can eat whatever I like without it affecting my shape. I hope this continues as I like my food and would hate to have to curtail my eating habits if I became a 'lard-arse', which is what my brother calls overweight people.

I look up at Edward because he's stopped snoring. His eyes are open and he's grinning at me.

"What are you giggling about," he asks and then my tummy rumbles again. "Are you hungry?" he chuckles then pulls me up his body effortlessly so we're face to face.

"I'm only hungry for you?" I reply cheesily.

"Hmm, so you want me to fill you up, do you?" he says with a smirk and kisses me on my nose.

"You make me sound like a petrol tank?" I whine playfully.

"You are a petrol tank; you're what keeps me going. I couldn't do without you. I'd splutter to a halt and not be able to move an inch if I didn't have you."

"So what are you going to fill me up with?" I respond boldly. (Jesus, I'm such a tart. That arsehole in Lyons was right).

"Hmm, let me see now," he sighs as if he's thinking about it. "Aha! I have the very thing."

He pushes me onto my back and forces my legs apart with his knees.

"Meat and two veg enough for you, madam?" he jokes.

"As long as it comes with sauce," I quip as he leans over me and grabs the last Johnnie from under the pile of empty wrappers.

"You astound me," he sighs as he rolls the Johnnie onto his very erect penis then he rams it into me without warning which means I'm not getting a first-course with this meal. Foreplay is overrated anyway.

I wrap my legs around him as he pounds into me. His chest is rubbing on my breasts making my nipples rock hard which I know he likes. My hands travel down to his buttocks and I splay my fingers over them, putting pressure on his muscular cheeks each time he thrusts into me. This is the most frenzied sex we've had so far and I guess he's making the most of it because we've run out of protection, so I'm going to make the most of it too.

I'm presuming he isn't going to stop until he climaxes but he pulls out of me and shoots down the bed. Before I've a chance to guess what he's going to do next, he pulls my legs further apart and lifts me up slightly then in one quick movement his head is between my thighs and his tongue is licking me from one end to another. I don't have time to be mortified because the sensation is awesome, (there's that word again). His tongue is strong and lively and he forces it between my folds and into my vagina which makes me scream with pleasure. He works on me for what seems like an age but is probably only a few minutes then he drops me back down onto the bed and rams himself into me once more.

I'm like a jellyfish by now as he's taken complete control of my body. As he plunges into me again and again he uses his thumb to work on me. As I feel him climaxing, I explode with such force that I think I'm going to die.

Edward hauls me up from my prone position and holds me until the shuddering stops then I collapse in his arms like a deflated balloon and wallow in ecstasy for a few moments. He manoeuvres my face so I'm looking at him then crashes his lips onto mine, forcing mine apart so that his tongue can enter my mouth. We fall back on the bed again while he kisses me passionately, but I sense there's something different with him, something wrong, so I open my eyes and see that he's crying which shakes me to my core.

I pull away from him and stroke his hair to calm him but tears are streaming down his face.

"Edward, what's wrong," I ask and I'm really worried as he's having some sort of emotional meltdown. He shakes his head from side to side and doesn't speak straight away and I sense he's trying to control himself.

"I could've lost you yesterday," he sobs into my neck. "I should've fought James to protect you, not run away like a coward. I'm so sorry, Bella. If anything had happened to you I would've killed myself."

"No, Edward," I choke out forcefully and by this time I'm crying too. "You _did_ protect me. You saved my honour and you saved my life by putting yours on the line for me. I wouldn't be here without you."

I don't know what to do because without warning Edward has completely changed from being loving and playful, to falling to pieces in my arms. I'm suspecting he's suffering from delayed-shock in that it has suddenly hit him that either one of us or both of us could have lost our lives yesterday. He's obviously been bottling up the horror in order to appear calm and controlled in front of me and the others, but now it's burst out like an erupting volcano. I had my meltdown yesterday in the field and a couple of little ones last night and one this morning, but he hasn't had a chance to release his emotions. Being hunted like an animal by James and his pack I guess emasculated him, but he had only run away to protect me and I had to reassure him he was a hero not a coward.

"There were five or six of them, Edward, and they were probably all armed with knives," I insist. "We had to run or we'd both have died, either in Brighton or in the field. James and his pack are maniacs and you saved me. I'll never be able to thank you enough."

Edward pulls me even tighter into his embrace and his sobs finally abate.

"You won't ever leave me, will you, Bella?"

"Never," I exclaim and I snuggle into him as I want him to feel as though he's protecting me again. "I'm yours as long as you want me, Edward. I wasn't sure if you'd still want me when I came in the house this morning. I wouldn't have wanted to live if you'd have rejected me."

"Why would I reject you?" he replied and his voice is almost back to normal. "I told you in the field you were the only woman I'd ever want again. I meant it then, Bella, and I really mean it now."

"I know that now, Edward," I reply and snuggle into him even more. "It was my stupid inferiority complex again. I'm sorry."

I make him lie down next to me and drag the bed covers over him to keep him warm as he's shivering. The bedroom isn't cold at all and our body-heat is making me feel sweaty, but I encourage him to wrap himself around me and he nuzzles into my chest. As he's calming down he begins playing with my nipples then he shuffles around so his head is under the covers and starts licking and sucking my breasts in turn. He's obviously deriving some sort of comfort from this so I massage his scalp which I can tell he's enjoying until he finally comes up for air.

"I'm sorry for throwing a wobbly," he mumbles as he buries his face in my hair again. "I just freaked when it hit me I could have lost you so easily yesterday. I've been blocking it from my mind so I could stay strong for you."

"I understand," I reply feeling relieved the old Edward has returned. "I'm sure I'm going to carry on having panic attacks as I still haven't got my head around what happened either. All I know is we've got to do something about James or he'll kill someone one day. If we do nothing now, then we'll be partly to blame for not doing our best to get him off the streets."

"You're right," he sighs. "I'll go to the police station tomorrow and report what he did. It'll mean you having to make a statement. Are you okay with that?"

"I will be," I reply, even though the thought of putting what happened to me into words makes me feel sick.

Edward sighs again and nuzzles into me, but even though I feel totally safe in his arms and his bed, I get the feeling that part of his panic attack was because he's already accepted our issue with James isn't resolved. Unless he's caught and locked up soon, James might eventually track us down one day, and if this is the case, there's still a strong chance he might kill or maim one or both of us before he's apprehended.

I heard his threat when we were hiding in the field, and from what Edward has told me about him I suspect he's not the type of person to accept defeat. I don't want to spend my life looking over my shoulder and I'm sure Edward doesn't either, which means we're going to have to do everything practicable to keep ourselves safe.

After we'd made love in the field, I couldn't bring myself to tell Edward what James had done to me, meaning he still doesn't know James had grabbed my breasts or licked my face before stating his intention to rape me, or that one of the other Rockers had put his hands between my legs. If I'd have told Edward on the day, it may have tipped him into a world of insanity. I couldn't risk him acting out of pure rage or revenge as this would make him vulnerable. Now isn't the time either as I'd just got him to calm down; I'd wait until we were in the police station and I could put what happened in a formal statement which would give him time to absorb the truth and not just react to the situation in anger.

I glance at the clock and it's nearly eight in the evening now. I know we'll have to get out of bed soon and tidy ourselves up before Jasper turns up to take me home, but I just don't want to move. I wonder what Alice has been doing and whether she's had an awesome afternoon like me. (Awesome again; it really is my favourite word).

Edward is totally relaxed now and is breathing steadily next to me but I know he's not sleeping as he's running his fingertips all over my body. Occasionally he kisses me on the top of my head or strokes my hair which is soothing, which delays me from taking the decision to move and bring this blissful afternoon and evening to a close. In the end, that decision is taken out of our hands.

The phone starts ringing by the bed which makes me jump as it's so silent in the house. Edward chuckles as he leans over me and pulls the receiver off and puts it to his ear.

"Hello," he mumbles and I can easily hear Jasper talking on the other end of the phone.

"We'll be home in about half an hour. We thought we'd warn you so you could get out of bed, hahaha. We're coming back via the fish and chip shop. Do you want anything?"

I nod enthusiastically. "Cod and chips please," I call out so he can hear me, "With lots of salt and vinegar."

"Make that two," Edward confirms. "Thanks for the warning as well."

Edward lets me go in the bathroom first to clean up and I get dressed and tidy the bed while he's taking his turn. By the time Alice and Jasper pull up outside with our dinner, we're innocently sitting in the living room with the TV on and knives, forks, napkins and bottles of Coke all ready.

As soon as the front door opens, Alice charges up the stairs like she's being followed by the Grim Reaper and bursts into the living room and starts jumping up and down in excitement.

"Edward, Bella," she squeals. "Jasper and I are getting married!"

* * *

 **Edward**

I go with Jasper to drop Alice and Bella home as I don't want to miss any opportunity to be with her now. When the four of us are travelling in the direction of Poplar, I have to admit to Jasper that I love the campervan and can totally understand why he bought it as it perfectly suits his bohemian personality. I can't help smiling watching him driving it with Alice tucked in beside him. I guess he'll have this van for donkey's years and can already imagine a brood of little Alices and Jaspers bouncing around in the back on one of their adventures.

We drop Bella off first and get her in just before ten o'clock. I kiss her goodnight on the doorstep and tell her I love her and will come over on Wednesday night. I'd like to see her tomorrow but I plan to go to the police station after work and I don't know how much time it will take, so even though it will be tough, we'll have to not see each other for about forty-four hours.

We make our way over to Alice's next. Jasper doesn't go in because they've decided not to say anything to her parents about getting married just yet. Jasper wants to do it the old-fashioned way and ask her father's permission before he puts a ring on her finger, so they've agreed to keep it between the four of us for the moment. Even though Jasper is disgustingly wealthy, he thought it best to present her father with his plan for the future, including how Alice fits in with those plans. As far as he's concerned Alice is his partner now in every aspect of his life, and any decisions made from now on would be joint decisions.

When Alice has been dropped off and we're on our own in the van, I ask him how he proposed, if it wasn't too personal.

Jasper laughs and shakes his head.

"No, I didn't propose in bed if that's what you're thinking, even though I considered it. After I left your place, I took her to mum's apartment in Park Lane and parked the campervan in the underground car park before taking her for a walk. I thought the concierge was going to have an epileptic fit when he saw the van and I could tell he didn't want me to park it in there. All the other cars down there are either Jaguars, Rolls Royce's or Bentleys, but he couldn't say no though because we own the penthouse, so yah-boo-sucks to him."

I chuckle at the image. The concierge's in these high-end developments are well known to be more snobbish than the people who live in the opulent blocks. I'd be surprised if they didn't erect a screen around the van to prevent it from upsetting the neighbours whenever it's parked there.

Jasper continues.

"I took her across the road to Hyde Park and hired one of the rowing boats on the Serpentine. I figured that as our future is going to be connected with water, the lake would be the best place to pop the question, even though it's fifty miles away from the sea. I rowed us into the middle and put the oars up so we were floating and asked her if she was prepared to spend the rest of her life with me as my wife. She said yes of course."

"Was she surprised?" I asked.

"No, she was expecting it, weirdly, but she still squealed so loudly she frightened all the ducks, and she didn't mind I hadn't got a ring prepared. Look, before you tell me this is weird as well, Edward, I'm sure she's psychic. She knows what I'm thinking half the time. She even guessed I wanted to live in Cornwall; either that or I talked in my sleep on Sunday night. I'll never be able to have any secrets from her, not that I want to of course."

"What will you do if she's pregnant?"

"I'll marry her straight away. I think her parents will be okay about it; they seem quite liberated as Alice told me her mum had told her all about sex. Not only that, they sort of procured the situation by booking us into the hotel in Brighton. I was hardly likely to ask the manager where the nearest night-chemist or Johnnie machine was as he's a friend of her dad. I'll just blame them for aiding and abetting the production of their first grandchild."

We both belly-laughed at that.

"We could have a joint wedding of course; me and Alice and you and Bella."

"Yeah yeah yeah," I reply trying to be sarcastic but sounding more like John Lennon. "We could drag in Emmett and Rosie too; make it a threesome."

"Great idea," Jasper chortles but thankfully doesn't question me further about my relationship with Bella. I'm sure he presumes our family could only have one impetuous nutcase and that would be him.

I still think he's too young to get married as he's not even twenty-two yet, but both of us have come to realise in the last few weeks that life is very short and could be taken away at any time. Harry's death behind the wheel of his car and my dad having a heart attack at age fifty-seven, leaving him a whisker away from oblivion, has probably convinced Jasper there's no point waiting to have what he wants, and what he wants more than anything is Alice. Who am I to tell him he's being foolish, as it pains me to take Bella home and leave her in her house in the East End, when I actually want her with me, all day every day, and the only way I can do that without incurring the wrath of her father is to marry her.

When we get in the house I tell Jasper what happened in Brighton and my decision to report what James and his thugs did to Bella to the police.

"Good idea, but do you think they'll do anything about it?" he asks.

"Possibly not, but my conscience will be clear if or when he attacks anyone else. I'm going into the police station near to my office after work tomorrow. I've known James for a while so I'll be able to give the police a good description. What are you going to do tomorrow?"

"I've got an informal meeting with the shareholders in the morning. Depending on what they say, I'm going to start investigating buying some land in Cornwall."

We talked for about another half-hour then went to bed. Both of us were shattered; our carnal pursuits had taken their toll and I was still not over what happened to Bella, despite what she said to reassure me. In the heat of the moment Bella had disclosed that I'd saved her 'honour' and her life, which must mean James had threatened to rape her before possibly killing her, which is not surprising considering what he said he liked doing to women in the Ace. I was determined now I wasn't going to let James get away with what he did, even if it meant having to stand up in court to give evidence against him and risk the possibility of him being found 'not guilty'.

I may have run away from James in Brighton, but I'm not running away from him now.

* * *

 **Bella**

 **Tuesday May 19th**

I slept like the dead after our sex-marathon and consequently through the alarm on Tuesday morning. Mike had to bang on my door to wake me and I stumbled around the bedroom and bathroom feeling totally disorientated until I finally and properly woke up. Even though I'd had a bath when I got in last night, I was still _very_ tender 'down there' which wasn't surprising considering what we'd got up to, and I wished I'd woken earlier so I could sit in the bath for an hour again, not that I could with only one bathroom in the house, plus I was already running late and didn't want to keep Mike waiting.

I had to carefully negotiate my way down the stairs and I was positive anyone who saw me walking would think I was doing a great impression of John Wayne without his horse. My inner thigh muscles were aching from wrapping them around Edward's hips and even though I was wearing the loosest skirt in my wardrobe, I was sure everybody would notice I had bandy legs today. How embarrassing!

By the time Mike and I make it out the front door, Poplar had already been delighting in a beautifully crisp May morning and even the East End looked gorgeous today, but maybe it's my mood which is making everything around me look like it's basking in a warm glow. Being in love is a wonderful feeling, but knowing the person you love loves you back is the best feeling ever, and I truly believe now that Edward loves me and I won't let myself have any foolish doubts about this again.

The spring air has perked me up by the time I get to the office and I'm ready for whatever the day has in store for me now. I know I'll have my work cut out today as I'd lost all the notes I'd made at Barbara's house when the Rockers took my handbag. Luckily I didn't have much money in my purse but I'd lost a new lipstick and a really nice hairbrush which annoyed me. Fortunately I could remember everything Barbara said and I had her number if I needed to double-check anything, so I confidently wrote the article and left it for Johnson who was out of the office.

I ran the idea of a 'teenage dictionary' for Friday's first edition past Keith who thought it was brilliant. Words like 'fab', 'trendy' and 'gear' had come into common use in the last few years, so I thought it would be fun to make a definitive list of words and phrases that only the younger generation made use of, (including awesome). I'd slip in a few risqué words like 'boob' and 'stiffy', but wouldn't make it too x-certificate this time. I asked my colleagues in the Jungle to think of some words to include, which caused much hilarity during the day and the air was blue with swear words, some of which I'd never heard before and wouldn't dare repeating when I found out what they meant. Just alternative words for a man's private parts would have filled a whole column for example. I'm not even going to start on women's.

Keith and I had been wracking our brains trying to think up a name for our four-page spread but couldn't think of anything snappy. The deadline was Thursday so we had to choose something in the next day or so as Joanna, our graphic artist, needed time to do the art work. Inspiration came from a very unlikely source. I opened the window to let some air in and a whacking great bumble bee flew in the window. I'm terrified of bees and wasps because I was stung badly when I was a kid. Keith manfully tried to swot it away from me with a newspaper while I was hiding under the desk whimpering. I could hear it buzzing angrily before he finally persuaded it to leave the way it came.

"That's it!" I yell triumphantly as I emerge from my refuge.

"What?" Keith replies as he slumps in his chair after his exertions.

"Our feature. We'll call it 'The Buzz'. We could even have a bee as the symbol."

"That's brilliant," Keith said as he fans himself with the newspaper. "Go and tell Joanna and Johnson and get me some coffee on the way back, please. Protecting helpless maidens from dangerous beasts has done me in."

I waltz out the office feeling exceedingly pleased with myself. Journalism is….awesome.

* * *

 **Edward**

Tuesday drags, and even though I know Bella isn't working at the Express any more, my eyes still automatically stray over there during the day, almost as if I'm willing her to be outside on the steps waiting for me. I've occasionally seen the fat creep I shouted at, but he never looks over to my building but scuttles away as if he's scared I might verbally threaten him again. I'm tempted to do just that, but honestly the best revenge will be when they find out that Bella's now working for the Advertiser as a journalist. She's already told me she's definitely going to write an article about what happened to her in there, and she isn't going to pull any punches. As readers will know by then that's she's come from the Express, word will get around in the journalism circles that the Express turns a blind eye to sexual harassment, so I wouldn't like to be their Chief Editor when the other broadsheets pick up on this, which they no doubt will.

At five-thirty I make my way to the local police station and tell the desk sergeant I have information about the trouble in Brighton. I have to wait for about ten minutes in an untidy reception area before I'm shown into a windowless room where a bored looking young detective in a scruffy unbuttoned jacket is slumped behind a desk smoking a cigarette. He doesn't even look up or acknowledge me when I enter which irritates me as I cannot tolerate bad manners.

I don't usually name-drop, but this guy obviously couldn't give a shit about me or an event that happened fifty miles away, so I pull out my business card and slap it on the desk in front of him which makes him jump. When I have his attention, I put on my best impression of 'Lady Cullen in assertive-mode' which usually scares the crap out of anyone in the firing line.

"My name is Edward Masen-Cullen. I'm a lawyer. My father is Lord Carlisle Cullen, Master of the Rolls and President of the Court of Appeal _and_ a member of the House of Lords. I have information about a man who assaulted my girlfriend in Brighton who will kill if he's not apprehended, so I suggest you stub that cigarette out and sit up and pay attention. If that's too much for you, I suggest you get someone in here who will, before I or my father pays your Chief Constable a visit."

"Yes Sir," he chokes and shoots out of his chair. "I think it would be better if you spoke to my boss, Sir."

He dashes out the room and less than a minute later a middle-aged man in a smarter suit hurries in while still buttoning up his jacket and straightening his tie. He holds his hand out for me to shake and gestures for me to sit down before he does. It's amazing what you can achieve when you have the power to kick arses.

"I'm Detective Inspector Rogers … Sir. How can I help you?" he splutters.

"For a start my name's _Mr_ Cullen. I do have a title but don't usually need to flaunt it to get some attention. However I do have contact through my father with the Head of the Metropolitan Police, so I expect my statement to be taken seriously."

"I assure you it will, Sir...Mr Cullen. Would you like to tell me what happened in Brighton."

"On Sunday, on the promenade near to the Grand Hotel, my girlfriend, Isabella Swan, was attacked and sexually assaulted by a man named James. He rides a Norton motorbike and I know him from the Ace Café. I'm a weekend biker before you ask and I wasn't in Brighton to cause trouble, but to rescue my girlfriend and bring her home. The same man had threatened me with a flick-knife a few weeks previously after I challenged him for boasting about how he wanted to seriously sexually assault a woman. He made these claims in front of about forty customers in the Café so he's been barred from there as he's an offensive human being and a trouble-maker. It was sheer coincidence he attacked Isabella on Sunday as he had no way of knowing we were dating."

"What did he do to your girlfriend may I ask?"

"He roughly manhandled her and threatened her with violence then told two of his thugs that accompanied him to hang on to her while he joined in the fight on the beach. He told my girlfriend he was going to sexually assault her when he got back, but she's too traumatised to talk about what actually happened at the moment. My girlfriend is a journalist and was in Brighton to interview an up-and-coming fashion designer for her newspaper. I heard about the trouble while still in London and went down on my bike to look for her. Luckily I spotted her on the promenade and a friend and I managed to extricate her from the men who were holding her. James threatened me again with the knife while we were getting away, saying he was going to kill us both, then he and his thugs chased us through town until we managed to lose him and his pack several miles outside Brighton."

"Would you be able to give me a description of this man?"

"Absolutely, in fact I've written his description down for you in detail. He's very distinctive, in that he's disgustingly filthy and stinks to high-heaven. If you arrest him, you'll have to put him in solitary confinement as he's a health-hazard."

I pass over a piece of paper I'd prepared earlier with everything I knew about James. Unfortunately I didn't know his other name but I'd written a full description of him down to his greasy hair and filthy fingernails, plus the make and model of his bike.

The detective reads the details and stands up.

"Would you excuse me for a moment please?"

I nod in agreement and he goes out the door.

I wait for about five minutes then the detective comes back with another man carrying a box file. He acknowledges me with a head-nod then sits down next to Rogers and opens it and tips the contents out onto the desk. He then spreads out about twenty black and white photographs taken on Brighton beach and invites me to look through them. I spot James straight away.

"That's him," I say and push the photograph towards the detectives. I carry on looking through the pictures and find several more of James, including a satisfyingly damning one where he's holding his unsheathed knife in the air. The pictures aren't brilliant quality but you can clearly make out the maniacal look on James' face showing he's obviously relishing the confrontation.

The second detective is collecting the other pictures to put them back in the box when I spot an image which had been taken from the opposite end of the beach. The main focus is on a group of Mods running up the beach towards the confrontation and is actually a great action shot, but I'm not looking at the Mods. I've spotted some figures on the promenade just at the edge of view so I snatch the picture off the table before the detective has a chance to put it away and bring the image up to my eye.

"That's my girlfriend," I shout and spring off my chair knocking it backwards onto the floor.

I can just see three figures standing next to the low sea wall. Bella is being held by the two men Emmett and I punched and she's bent double. Her body is twisted awkwardly like she's struggling to get away and her hair is flopping over her face. One of the men is also bent over her, and even though I can't see it I'm guessing he has his free hand on her leg or worse.

"The fucking bastards; I'll kill them," I hiss.

The detectives' eyes widen when I curse but they don't dare object.

"That's my girlfriend, Isabella Swan. She's being molested by those two thugs I told you about while James was on the beach. These men are dangerous and need to be taken off the streets."

The Detective looks angry for a fleeting second as I guess he isn't used to be spoken to assertively by a member of the public, or being told what to do especially in front of a subordinate, but I don't care who I upset. I want action.

"Well, Sir, we'll have to speak to Miss Swan at some point. Do you think you can persuade her to make a statement?"

"Yes, of course, but in the meantime James needs to be arrested. That flick-knife is illegal and these photos on their own are enough for a conviction."

The detective stands up and offers me his hand again without making any comment about my suggestion.

"Thank you for your co-operation, Mr Cullen. I'll make sure this information is passed to the team dealing with the confrontation in Brighton, plus I'll ensure every police station in the south of England gets this man's description. If you could let me know when Isabella is up to making a statement, I'll arrange for an officer to visit her at her home rather than at a police station, which may make her feel more comfortable."

"Fine," I reply. "I'm seeing her tomorrow night so I'll contact you on Thursday morning."

I'm escorted from the station by a uniformed officer and once on the street I take some deep breaths. The picture of Bella being manhandled by those brutes brought it all back to me and I can feel myself shaking with rage from actually seeing photographic evidence of Bella being assaulted. When Emmett and I spotted Bella, we both reacted out of instinct and laid into the men to rescue her after which Bella and I were chased through the Sussex countryside, which I know was terrifying for her. I haven't had the heart to really question her about what those men did while they were holding her, but I need to know now what they put her through.

I make my way home on the tube, but that gap in my knowledge is like a dark cloud hovering over me and it won't shift. Anger is multiplying inside of me like a cancer, and until that bastard, James, is standing in the dock at the Old Bailey, I won't be able to rest. The only thing keeping me sane at the moment is the fact that James has no idea that Bella is a permanent part of my life. He doesn't know anything about her or where she lives or works, so I can confidently rest in the knowledge that Bella is safe from him for now.

Also, he doesn't know I'm coming after him.

* * *

 **It's true that James is in the dark about the fact that Edward and Bella are an item, but if he knows who Edward is, he could follow him and see him with her of course. They will have to be very careful.**

Sorry - no historical FYIs, other than it's obvious that both Bella and Edward are suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder which was unknown then. The term PTSD didn't come into regular use until the 1980's, after it had been described in a medical report published in 1978, which described the symptoms of returning soldiers from the Vietnam war and other modern conflicts. Before this, people who had been through horrifying or violent situations were just told they were suffering from stress-related illness, or, in the case of Army Veterans, 'Shell Shock'. PTSD is now a recognised psychiatric condition.

 **In the next chapter, The Buzz is launched on the unsuspecting residents of East London, Bella finally finds out about Edward's family and Alice and Bella decide to go back to The Roxy for a girls night out.**

Joan xx


	32. Chapter 32

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 31**

Wednesday 20th May 1964

 **Bella**

Keith and I work our socks off today on The Buzz as the Thursday deadline is rapidly approaching and we still have some corners to fill. Johnson is very encouraging, saying he's really pleased with our efforts so far which gives us confidence we're on the right track. The paper's graphic artist, Joanna, has gone to town on our pages. Normally all she does is add stock photographs to stories, change fonts on headlines or put little swirls around adverts to make them stand out, so she was thrilled to have something really creative to work on for a change. Our section now has cartoon bees buzzing all over the pages and some great photos and drawings to go with the articles, so we're confident the finished product is going to look very cool.

Even cooler though, Barbara Hulanicki sent me a few sketches of her latest designs in the post and gave us permission to use them. I called her to thank her and she asked whether Alice and I had been caught up in the 'battle on the beach' on our way home. Keith was in the office at the time so I just told her we got chased by some Rockers, but Alice had broken Roger Bannister's four minute mile record to make sure they didn't steal her bag with our clothes in it and left it at that. Before we hung up she asked for Alice's telephone number at home, which I gave her as I was sure Alice wouldn't mind. I had a good idea why she was calling her but I'd still be looking forward to hearing what Alice has to say.

I couldn't wait to get home this evening as Edward promised to come over. He hadn't mentioned anything about going out anywhere, but if he wants to it will have to be somewhere local as dad is adamant I'm not going anywhere on his bike again. Dad is at a union meeting this evening and Mike is going for his interview at the Sunday Mirror straight after work, so mum and I will be anxiously waiting to hear how he's got on. He hasn't mentioned to Johnson yet that he's got an interview at the Mirror, just in case he doesn't get offered a job.

At bang on seven-thirty, just as Coronation Street is beginning on the TV, Edward roars up on his bike. I can hear him coming before I see him turning into our street so I'm at the front door waiting when he pulls into our garden on a different bike than before. I'm sad to see he isn't wearing his leathers this time, probably because it's a warm, dry evening, but he still looks unbelievable sexy in well-fitting jeans, a tight white t-shirt and a heavy cotton black bomber jacket. He could actually get away with being a Mod in those clothes, but I wouldn't mention this just in case he's offended.

He gives me a lingering kiss on the doorstep and I notice curtains twitching all the way along the street, but I don't care. This is the 1960's not the 1860's, and I'm happy to show the world, or at least the East End, that I've got an awesome boyfriend who wants to passionately snog me as soon as he sees me.

Because mum is completely hooked on Coronation Street and the antics of Elsie Tanner and Ena Sharples, nobody is allowed to utter a word in our house between seven-thirty and eight on Mondays and Wednesdays. Therefore with her permission, (but I'm not allowed to tell dad), I'm allowed to take Edward up to my room as long as I keep the door open. Edward smirks at this, but I'm confident he won't break mum's rules by getting too frisky.

We race up the stairs as Edward and I only have about twenty-five minutes for a kiss and cuddle. Barring a three minute advert break, nuclear war could break out over London but mum wouldn't realise anything was amiss while she's glued to the TV.

After some passionate kissing which takes my breath away, we cuddle up on the bed just enjoying being close to one another. Edward keeps his arms wrapped around me all the time as though he doesn't want me to escape (as if I'd try), but I guess he's still trying to come to terms with what happened on Sunday and is just being over-protective and I totally let him.

"I went to the police station last night and reported James," he whispers, just in case by some miracle mum has abandoned the TV and i _s_ listening at the bottom of the stairs. "They've got photographs of him on the beach holding his knife so they want you to make a statement. Do you think you'll be up for it fairly soon?"

"I think so," I reply as I raise my head off his chest. "Where would I have to go?"

"They'll come here if you like. I told them you were still traumatised and haven't been able to speak to anyone about it yet."

"They can't come here, Edward," I insist. "I don't want mum and dad to know what happened. Can I see them somewhere else?"

"If you like? Would my house be better?"

I nod my head and snuggle up to his chest again, slipping my fingers underneath the hem of his t-shirt so I can touch his bare skin. Edward chuckles as I tickle him.

"If you keep doing that I may have to ravage you, Bella Swan."

I carry on tickling his chest so he flings himself on top of me and simulates sex. I can't help squealing but mum doesn't hear us, thank goodness.

"Behave yourself," I admonish him then roll him onto his side.

"Shall I arrange for them to come over on Saturday then?"

"Okay," I reply trying to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach. "I'll be fine by then."

"Do you want to tell me what really happened, Bella? What did James and those other men do to you?"

I wasn't ready to tell him the whole story as putting it in words would make it real for me again. I'd tell the police everything, because it would be a formal interview setting and would feel different. If I told Edward now what James had said and done, it would be traumatic and he would question me before I had a chance to finish, plus I would probably end up crying so mum would wonder what the heck was going on, which would spoil the precious time I have with him tonight. I still can't accept this has happened to me; however he deserves to know some of it as I could easily sense that not knowing was eating him up.

"I'll tell you part of what happened, okay?" I offer.

"Okay," he replies tenderly then he wraps his arms around me as I speak. I can't look him in the eye so I stare at the poster of Jean Shrimpton I have on my wall for inspiration as I've a feeling she wouldn't take shit from anyone.

"Alice and I were running away from about six or seven Rockers. I got grabbed from behind by James at first and then another guy got hold of me and pinned my arms behind me. James grabbed my hair and yanked my head right back then he put his hands on my...face. I kicked him hard in the shin and he slapped me twice for doing that. Then he threatened me and told the two guys you punched to hold onto me until he got back...then he went on the beach with the others."

"Did the two guys do anything to you?" Edward asks.

"I tried to get away and stamped on the foot of one of them. He put his hand over my mouth when I started screaming so I bit him and he punched the back of my head."

"Did he do anything else, like did they touch you anywhere?"

"Yes, they did...but I'd rather not talk about it yet, Edward. They were both horrible to me and if you hadn't showed up when you did, it would've been so much worse.

"Okay, Bella. I won't push you. But you must tell the police everything. There's no point holding anything back."

"I won't, I promise."

I know I should have told Edward everything now, but each moment I spend with him is precious and I'm loathe to spoil the evening as I know he'll explode when he finds out what really happened. I'll tell the police every detail, but that will be for Saturday. Today is Wednesday and I've got Edward in my arms; lucky me.

About five minutes later, two things happen at the same time. We can hear the distinctive music signalling the closing credits for Coronation Street, which means mum will be on the prowl. Then the front door crashes open and we hear Mike bounding in like an over-excited Alsatian. I drag Edward off the bed and make him come downstairs with me as I'm anxious to hear how Mike's got on.

"I've been offered a job at the Sunday Mirror," Mike shrieks excitedly when he sees me emerge at the top of the stairs. "They don't want me to start until the end of July which is when the election mayhem kicks off, but they've offered me some freelance work in the meantime, which means instead of just concentrating on local issues, I can work on articles that affect the whole country."

Mike's eyes widen in surprise when he sees Edward coming down the stairs behind me, but he doesn't comment on the fact that mum has allowed me to take a member of the opposite sex 'up' the stairs. I haven't actually had the opportunity to tell Mike that Edward is my boyfriend and not just 'Alice's boyfriend's cousin who kindly brought me home on Sunday', so that possibly adds to the shocked look on his face.

"Congratulations," Edward says. "Any chance you and I could have a chat sometime. I might be able to help you with your first story."

"Sure, Edward," he replies enthusiastically. "Do you fancy a trip to the pub now then?"

I raise my eyebrows because this was not what I had in mind for the rest of the evening, but Edward seems keen so who am I to scupper a bit of male-bonding.

"Can I come too?" I ask and I know I sound a bit miffed. "Or is this just a boy's-only night out?"

"Sure you can come, Sis," Mike replies and slings my scruffiest jacket at me.

"What about your dinner?" Mum yells from the living room.

"I'll have it when I get back," Mike replies with a grin.

Edward picks his jacket up and follows Mike out the door. We walk up to the Rose and Crown which is our local pub and is only about five minutes away on foot. The Rose is a typical East London drinking hole with peeling flock wallpaper, faded curtains, creaking wooden floorboards, an upright piano in the corner and a selection of mismatched tables and chairs set out in front of a polished oak and brass bar. The aroma of cigarettes and alcohol hits our nostrils as soon as we pull open the heavy glazed doors to go inside, upon which Mike is greeted with welcoming cheers from the patrons, most of whom have known him since he was knee-high as dad would take him in on Saturday afternoons sitting on his shoulders.

"What are you having?" Mike asks.

"No, I'll get these," Edward tries to insist.

"Rubbish, this is my pub and you're a guest. What's it to be?"

"Pint of London Pride then, Mike."

"Good man, that's what I'm having. What do you want, Sis?"

"Cinzano and lemonade, thanks."

Edward and I find a table while Mike is buying the drinks and several bags of pork scratchings which he's addicted to. While he's at the bar, I quickly ask Edward how he was going to help Mike.

"It's complicated, just listen," is all Edward will impart before Mike sits down.

"We all touch glasses and say 'Cheers' then Edward launches into his story.

"You obviously know the dock workers won the court case a couple of months ago because the current law states an employer cannot arbitrarily change the terms and conditions of a contract without negotiation and agreement?"

"Yes," Mike replied. "That's still the case isn't it?"

"For the moment it is. However, I've heard from a reliable source that the Tories are going to sneak through an Emergency Bill on the last day of parliament to change all that. They'll pack their side of the House with Tories and some right-leaning Liberals so it'll get voted through as they've got the majority, and then it'll go straight to the Lords to be rubber-stamped before anyone has a chance to challenge it."

"Shit!" Mike exclaims. "When did you find all this out and have you got any idea what the Bill is going to say?" Mike asks.

"I've got a very reliable source, that's all I _can_ say at the moment. I've been told it's an amendment to the current law that _would_ allow employment contracts to be changed without negotiation. In future employers would only have to convince a tribunal that the original contracts were now detrimental to the profitability of the company, which would then give any employer carte blanche to tear up anyone's contract as and when they felt like it."

"Shit!" Mike exclaims again. "How the hell do you know all this? Have you got a friend in government or something?" Then he scratches his head and stares at Edward, as if he's examining him through a magnifying glass.

"I'm pretty certain you're posh, Edward. Shouldn't you be on their side, not ours?"

Edward chuckles when Mike says that and he gives me a funny look then shakes his head.

"I could answer yes to all those questions. Yes, I do know people in government. Yes, I am posh, and yes I should be on their side, which is why I had a huge fall-out with my father about the job I do, which is basically supporting people who are _not_ posh."

"Why should your dad be upset about what you do? I'd be dead proud of you if you were my son."

"Mike, you know me only as Edward Cullen. What other Cullen's have you heard of? Can you think of any other Cullen's who might be in the public eye?"

I've been quiet throughout the whole conversation and I'm wondering what Edward is getting at. He's watching Mike intently while he's wracking his brains, and then a light bulb goes on in Mike's head and he stares at Edward as though he's from Mars.

"Jesus Christ!" he spits out. "He's like the top judge in the land."

"Well, the Lord Chancellor is technically above him," Edward replies nonchalantly, "but I suppose he is the top _working_ judge, even though he's off sick at the moment."

"Who is?" I sort of yell in frustration as I'm feeling really out of the loop here. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Edward's father," Mike says in a low voice. "He's the Master of the Rolls; one of the top judges in the country. He's a Lord as well, isn't he?"

Edward nods his head in confirmation. "My parents are Lord and Lady Cullen. My dad is a Viscount and an hereditary Peer, which means I'll be a Lord one day; that's if I want to be."

"Cool," Mike replies and raises his glass in salute.

"What!" I cry out and everybody in the pub goes quiet.

I manage to stand but my whole body is shaking as my world comes crashing down around me. Edward has his pint in his hand and is staring at me, but I back away from the table and the man I love because it's patently obvious we have no future together. There's no way we could ever be husband and wife as we come from totally different backgrounds; ones that will never, ever, be compatible. Edward goes to grab me but I turn and run out of the pub before anybody sees me crying.

I run as fast as I can along the quiet street in the direction of home but I can't see the pavement clearly because of my tears. Edward says he loves me and I'm sure he does, at the moment. But he would never _marry_ a girl like me. I'm just a passing fancy; a fleeting love-affair which will end when it's time for him to marry a girl who would be acceptable to his parents and polite society. A girl born to be a Lady, who has been brought up in _his_ world; not some common girl from a council house in Poplar who went to a bog-standard secondary school and not a finishing school in Switzerland.

I can hear running feet behind me and I know it's Edward and he'll catch me before I've got a hundred yards away. I feel his hands gripping my shoulders and the memory of James grabbing me in Brighton comes back like a punch to the head and I scream.

"Bella, stop!" he cries. "I'm not going to hurt you."

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into an embrace then lifts me off the ground. I have my back to him so I start kicking and wriggling to get free while shaking my head in denial to what's happening to me.

"You _have_ hurt me, Edward. Let me go," I weep.

"No!" he replies forcefully, "Not until you tell me what all this is about."

Edward shuffles me around so I'm facing him then he walks over to a low garden wall still carrying me in his arms and sits down with me on his lap. His arms are tight around me and even if I wanted to escape, his strength would prevent me. I'm sobbing by now and he holds me close to his chest until I've calmed down, but I'm still distraught at the thought that one day Edward and I would inevitably go our separate ways.

"Can you talk now," he asks gently and he kisses the top of my head. "Is this about who my parents are?"

I nod while I'm trying to wipe tears away from my cheeks.

"You knew I was posh, Bella. I didn't keep anything from you. I told you I went to Eton and only posh boys go there. You must have suspected?"

"Rich boys go there as well, I sob. But… you're an...Aristocrat. You've got a title," I weep.

"What difference does that make, Bella? I love you; you love me. What's the problem?"

"I… don't… belong… in… your… world… Edward," I wail and start crying again.

"That's bollocks," he spits and I can hear the contempt in his voice. "This isn't the fucking nineteenth century, Bella. Arranged marriages for the aristocracy went out the window along with crinolines and smoking jackets. Even Princess Margaret married a commoner."

He clasps me to his chest and strokes my hair but I can't stop crying.

"So your parents wouldn't mind if you choose someone like me?" I choke between sobs.

"It's none of their damned business who I choose. I'm over twenty-one; I can marry whoever I like. Bella."

He manoeuvred my face so he was looking straight into my eyes.

"How am I going to convince you that you are perfect for me. Since the day I was born I've been surrounded by privileged, titled women, and _entitled_ women who are much much worse, and none of them could hold a candle to you, Bella."

Edward kisses me on the lips then cups my chin, tilting my face up so he can look me in my eyes again.

"Bella, don't you realise it's _me_ that doesn't belong in _their_ world. Haven't you got that yet? I didn't _choose_ my parents, I didn't _choose_ to go to Eton, but I _did_ choose not to use my title, I _did_ choose to work for Jenks, I _did_ choose to ride a motorbike for fun and hang around with a pack of greasy Rockers in a scruffy cafe on the North Circular Road, and I _did_ choose to fall in love with a girl who is so far above any of the girls from 'my world' as you call it, they'd need an astronomical telescope to see you. My only concern is that one day you'll fall out of love with me."

"That will never happen, Edward. You're the love of my life."

"And you're mine. I want you and me to be together forever, Bella. I can't live without you now."

"Is that a proposal," I joke while I'm wiping my face with my sleeves.

"Bella, when I propose to you, it will be somewhere a lot more romantic than sitting on a crumbling garden wall in full view of your brother who's staring at me daggers drawn."

I look up and can see Mike standing outside the pub with his pint in his hand, but he looks more confused than angry.

"I'm sure he's not going to kill you, Edward. I think it's just dawned on him that you're not just 'Alice's boyfriend's cousin, who kindly brought me home from Brighton.' I think you'd better call him over."

Edward beckons Mike over and he approaches us cautiously.

"Mike, meet my boyfriend, Edward Cullen," I say sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I presumed you'd guessed or mum had told you we're an item."

"How long have you two been…?" Mike pointed to both of us and then scratches his head.

"Well, we've been dancing around one another for a couple of months," Edward explains, "but we only got together officially in Brighton. Are you okay with that?"

"Yes, I mean sure, I mean… of course I am. Anyone's better than Jake the Jerk."

I can't understand why Edward bursts out laughing as it's not _that_ funny. There's no way he could have known Mike's nickname for Jake. I elbow him in the ribs and he calms down eventually.

"Sorry," he mumbles but he's still grinning. He stands up and puts me back on my feet. "Are you okay now?"

"Yes, I'm fine," I reply then I turn to Mike because he needs an explanation for my histrionics

"I didn't know about Edward's background and it came a bit of a shock," I start. "He's convinced me that class isn't an issue here and I believe he's telling the truth. Mum knows I love him and he's part of my life now, so I hope the two of you will be friends."

Mike reaches over and offers Edward his hand. "As long as you support West Ham, I'm sure we'll get along fine."

"I'm not affiliated to any team, Mike," Edward replies with a grin, "but I'm quite happy to follow your lead."

I harrumph because boys always lead everything back to _bloody football._

Edward convinces me that I don't look a mess so we go back in the pub and finish our drinks. After a bit more male-bonding, the three of us wander home together. I have my arm around Edward's waist and he has his arm slung lazily over my shoulders, which reminds me of being with Jake the Jerk (I shouldn't call him that because Jake isn't a jerk really). On the way, Edward is talking to Mike about a guy he knows who belongs to the 'Fabian' Society which is the group he mentioned before when we were out on one of our walks, and that he'll arrange an introduction. Basically Edward is going to feed Mike with information about the secret bill via this guy so he can bring it to the attention of the voting public through the Mirror, before it gets a chance of being passed. Mike is ecstatic because this story will be headline news and will give him a great introduction to the newspaper.

Edward doesn't come into the house so I kiss him goodnight on the doorstep. He reassures me again that our different backgrounds aren't an issue for him and he makes me promise never to think that somehow I'm less of a person than he is. I watch him ride down the road and he looks back and waves as he turns the corner, but I wait until I can't hear his bike anymore before I go indoors.

Even though Edward said I looked okay, I dash upstairs before mum has a chance to see I've been crying and go in the bathroom to wash my face. It's obvious when I look in the mirror that Edward was lying to make me feel better, so I get some of mum's cold cream out the cupboard and dab it under my eyes to make the puffiness go down, but it's no use; I still look like a bloated frog.

I slide into bed at just after ten-thirty, but as usual I can't switch off as my thoughts are all about Edward, especially as now I've been given another piece of the enigmatic puzzle that makes up Edward's life. He's an Aristocrat, and one day little, insignificant Bella Swan might become Lady Isabella Cullen. Now who could I piss off with that delightful piece of information?

Jessica, Doreen, that bitch from Personnel, that nutcase Victoria, Arrow, Alan Arrow….and then I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

* * *

 **Edward**

I call the police on Thursday morning and arrange for Bella to be interviewed at my house on Saturday at midday. They would send two officers, including a specially trained female officer who is skilled at taking statements from women who've been sexually assaulted. I was pleased the police were taking this seriously and I hoped talking to someone about what happened would be cathartic for Bella and for me. I'm prepared for Bella not wanting me to be around when she gives her statement, as I'm guessing she'll be worried about how I'm going to react when I learn what James and his thugs said and did to her, but I'm hoping that once she's got it out in the open she'll feel able to confide in me, and I know I'm going to have to try and stay calm in front of her.

It was irritating that Bella didn't have a telephone at home yet, but at least I could call her at the Advertiser now. Her boss had arranged for an extension line to be installed in her office so I could now phone her at work which was a great relief. I called her as soon as I'd made the arrangements with the police, then called again in the afternoon just for a chat. She was obviously on her own in the office because she told me sex wasn't on the cards this weekend because her friend was visiting. I didn't realise what she meant at first, but then the penny dropped and I knew what she was referring to because Tanya had used that code word as well.

She told me she'd like to go to The Roxy on Friday night with Alice as she didn't want to give up this part of her life just yet, and as Jasper had told Alice he was doing something else on Friday, it would be nice to have a girl's night out. I told her I may go down to the Ace, but actually Jasper and I had alternative plans for Friday night but I didn't mention what we were doing. I said I'd call her at work on Friday and I'd let her know what time I was picking her up on Saturday morning.

I called her on Friday morning and she was very excited because the first edition of The Buzz had been launched on the East End residents and Keith and her were being congratulated by everyone as apparently it was 'fantastic'. It was great to hear her so animated again after all she'd been through and I was glad she had a job she thoroughly enjoyed which would take her mind off what had happened. She told me that the editorial team were going out for a celebratory drink at lunchtime so not to bother calling back but she would see me on Saturday morning.

Jasper is already at home when I get in from work and straight away asks me if I'm still going through with my plans for the evening. I assure him I am so I go upstairs to start getting ready to go out. I have a shower and a really close shave but don't bother getting dressed until after I've eaten dinner which Jasper has prepared as usual. After I've washed up, I go back to my room and pull out the clothes I've bought specially for the occasion.

At about seven forty-five, I walk into the living room to be greeted by a wolf-whistling Jasper.

"You really look the part, Edward. I never thought I'd see the day."

"Yeah yeah yeah," I reply facetiously. "Let's get going and get this over and done with then."

* * *

 **Bella**

I meet Alice on the corner as usual and we get the bus to The Roxy. Alice is bursting to tell me that when she got home from college last night, Barbara had called her with a surprising offer. She wants her to go along to a studio in Kensington tomorrow where she would be made up by professional beauticians before having her photograph taken. As I'd already guessed, Barbara wants to use Alice's face in the promotion for her new shop and would pay her quite handsomely for the privilege of using her image.

"I don't believe it, Bella. I'm going to be one of the faces of Biba," she gushes and then she flutters her eyelashes which look suspiciously longer than usual.

"Are you wearing false-eyelashes," I ask.

"Yes," she squeals. "Aren't they fabulous?"

I must admit Alice does look 'fabulous' in her Biba dress and gorgeous make-up. When we've checked our coats and are on our way over to the bar, all the other girls are insanely jealous and flock around her, asking which shop she got her dress from. If Alice had brought a load of samples with her she could have flogged hundreds of pounds worth of dresses on the spot.

It's a warm evening so the boys are all wearing short-sleeved Ben Sherman's or Fred Perry's and haven't bothered with jackets and ties as the club will get boiling later. I revert back to drinking Coke rather than alcohol as a long chilled drink helps me stay cooler, especially when we've been on a packed dance floor. After getting our drinks, we wander over to where Jake and the scooter boys are standing so we can hang about with them while the club fills up.

As we approach them, I notice they are all putting their drinks down on the tables and one by one they started clapping and making a curious buzzing sound.

"What's going on?" I ask. Alice looks puzzled as well and she looks behind us to see whether Geoff Hurst or some other celebrity has come into the club and we haven't spotted them.

Jake bows low in front of me then straightens himself up and announces to his fan club….

"Isabella Swan, we're all 'Buzzing' to hear about your new career. Have you been keeping something from us?"

"Oh Jesus!" I proclaim. I'd totally forgotten some of them would have seen the feature. I'd got so used to being Aaron Y Moss that I hadn't prepared myself for my true name appearing in the Advertiser. I had to bluff this out like a pro.

"Thanks, I hope you like it, guys," I giggle. "I started working for the Advertiser two weeks ago. This is my first feature."

"Really?" he replies and I know he's suspicious. "That's a big jump from the typing pool."

"Yeah," I reply nonchalantly. "But your mum must have told you that I was a secretary to one of the editors for a few weeks before leaving the Express, so not such a big jump really. Mike helped me get the job when he heard they were looking for a young girl to work with one of the male editorial staff. I'm so lucky though."

"Right," he said, but I guess he was now suspecting I was responsible for the previous articles.

The serious dancing had started by then so I escape onto the dance floor with Alice, who is practically shoving her fist in her mouth by now to stop herself from laughing.

"When they find out you did the 'sex' article, you'll never be able to come up here again. You do know that, don't you."

"Well, they're not going to find out unless you tell them, _are they, Alice_?" I threaten but in a joking manner.

After a few great tunes, the DJ starts playing 'My Guy' by Mary Wells which is my new favourite song because it so encompasses everything I feel about Edward…

# _Nothing you can do can make me untrue to My Guy (My Guy)_

 _#Nothing you can say can make me stay away from My Guy (My Guy)_

As I'm singing the words and dancing with Alice, I feel two strong arms slide around my waist and a tall guy shuffle up so close to me that my back is tight to his chest. The guy is moving with me in time to the music and I can tell he's a great dancer. I know it isn't Jake because I can see him out of the corner of my eye and he's staring intently at whoever it is who's grabbed me without permission. I have a horrible feeling he's going to come over and punch this guy's lights out, even though he has no claim on me now.

I look over at Alice and give her the 'what-the-hell' expression but she's grinning from ear to ear. Then I spot that Jasper's creeping up behind her and he wasn't supposed to be here tonight, so I know without looking whose arms are around me.

"Edward," I splutter in surprise.

"Well who the fuck did you think it was," he growls in my ear.

I spin around, slide my arms around his neck and melt into him and we finish the dance so close together you couldn't have slid a cigarette paper between us.

When the music ends, I stand back and look at what he's got on.

He's wearing creamy-coloured tailored trousers, black loafers and a black short-sleeved Fred Perry and I can't help but giggle. He knows I'm laughing at him but he isn't annoyed with me as he can see the funny side too.

Edward had turned into a Mod and he looks awesome!

"Yeah okay," he sighs. "I'm wearing fancy-dress. Only for tonight though. I wanted to see what this place was like because Jasper's been raving on about it. I must admit it's pretty cool."

"It's fabulous," I beam. "Come over and meet some of the gang."

"Do they know I'm a Rocker?" Edward asks anxiously.

"No, they don't know you at all. I'm sure Jake won't recognise you. He was shitting himself when you had a go at him on the way back from Clacton."

I take Edward's hand and lead him over to where Jake is surrounded by the scooter crowd. There's definite hostility emanating from some of the guys as Edward is a new face. He's also considerably older than any of them, but I'm determined they're going to be civil to him.

"Guys, this is Jaz's cousin, Edward. Edward and I started dating last weekend. I hope you'll make him feel welcome."

It's like a balloon has deflated and they all relax except for Jake, who keeps staring at Edward with narrowed eyes.

"Have we met before?" he asks. "You look familiar to me."

"I doubt it," Edward replies quite calmly. "I'm not from this part of London and don't normally hang about with Jasp…..Jaz."

Jake isn't convinced. "We do leave East London occasionally you know" he says in a sarcastic tone. "Are you sure we haven't met?"

"I'm positive, but I'm pleased to be able to meet you now. Bella's has told me all about her friends here which is why I've come down tonight so I know who she's talking about. It's a great club."

"Yeah, great," he replies but there's a note of mockery and sarcasm in his voice.

I pull Edward away and introduce him to Angela and Tyler who make him feel very welcome and then all the other boys come over and introduce themselves. I notice many of the girls have stopped dancing and are staring at Edward open-mouthed and it's obvious why. Edward looks _hot_ and very manly compared to the other guys who look like boys compared to him, so I stake my claim on my gorgeous boyfriend and snuggle up really close to him so they know without question that he's _all mine._

But Jake keeps staring at Edward and I know it's only a matter of time before he works out where he's seen him previously. Hopefully this will happen after we've gone home as the last thing I want is trouble.

The DJ has ramped up the music and is blasting out some great tunes. Edward totally surprises me by being a great dancer and he really loses himself on the dance floor. When the Surfari's 'Wipe Out' is played and the crowd goes wild as usual, he ends up in the middle of the circle and even Tyler is impressed with his moves.

I'm really glad he's enjoying himself but I'm feeling tired by about ten thirty. I've got the stomach cramps so I tell Alice I'd like to go home. Jasper has brought the campervan tonight so I go off to find Edward who I last saw standing at the bar talking to Tyler but he's not there now. Alice wanders off in the opposite direction to find Jasper and I walk over to where the scooter boys are standing, but as I pass Jake he gets hold of my arm and pulls me roughly to one side.

"I know who that bastard is," he hisses. "He's the fucking Rocker from Clacton. What's he doing here?"

Edward has spotted Jake putting his hand on my arm so he tears over and knocks it away before I have a chance to respond.

"Get your hands off her," he spits. "Bella's _my_ girl now, not yours anymore. You blew your chance, jerk!"

"Not for much longer, arsehole? When I tell the other guys who you _really_ are, you'll be beaten black and blue when you leave this club and Bella will have to look under a rock for another boyfriend. You won't be much use to her when you won't be able to walk or talk for a year."

Jake's face is almost touching Edward's by now and I can see some of the bouncers watching the confrontation with interest and I start to feel nervous.

"So, Sherlock, who am I then?" Edward growls.

"You're the Rocker from Clacton. I'd know you anywhere you piece of shit. If you think you're going to leave this club on two legs, you're sadly mistaken."

As Edward and Jake face each other with mutual hatred in their eyes, I'm terrified if word gets out that Edward is a Rocker, there's a good chance he'll never get out of here alive.

* * *

 **Oh crikey. Jake _is_ being a jerk now, and a possessive jerk as well. He's still smarting from losing Bella of course, but losing her to a Rocker is really getting under his skin. Let's hope the bouncers are quick off the mark this time.**

FYI

 **Coronation Street** is another national institution in the UK as it was the first-ever 'soap opera' to appear on TV. It started in December 1960 and in 1964 it aired on Monday and Wednesday nights at 7.30pm. It's still going strong and is compulsive viewing for a large part of the British population. (I admit I don't watch it anymore).

 **Pork scratchings** are a disgustingly unhealthy but extremely tasty snack. Basically they are thin strips of the skin of a pig roasted until it's crunchy (like crackling) and then covered in salt. Otherwise known as a 'heart attack' in a bag. Pubs sell them because they make you thirsty so you'll buy another drink. Clever eh!

 **Roger Bannister** was the first person to run a four minute mile. Even though his record had been broken by 1964, his name was used as a euphemism when describing someone as running fast.

 **Princess Margaret** (the Queen's sister), did marry a commoner. She married Antony Armstrong-Jones, a well known photographer. He came from a very 'posh' family but he had no title until he got married, when he became the Earl of Snowdon.

 **Next time, Bella makes her statement to the police, but something else happens before that which sends Edward into panic-mode.**

Joan xx


	33. Chapter 33

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 32**

 **Edward**

I laugh in Jake's face. "Do I look like a Rocker to you? I'm a fucking lawyer you half-wit."

Jake raises his fist to hit me, but the bouncers are over to us in seconds and grab him before he has a chance to throw the first punch. All the other guys who've been listening to the confrontation with interest back off as they don't want to risk getting manhandled by the bouncers who are basically thugs in suits.

"Edward, let's go," Bella begs me. "Jake's had too much to drink," she adds which gives Jake a lame excuse for his behaviour.

Another bouncer lunges at me but I dodge out the way in time and sling my arm across Bella's shoulders and pull her into my side.

"My girl…..loser," I crow at my adversary who is struggling to get free and attack me again, so I taunt him even further by kissing Bella on the lips then doing the totally juvenile 'tosser' gesture with my hand, after which, with a bouncer's escort, we follow Jasper and Alice to get the girls' coats and then out through the door.

We walk in silence to the campervan and after we set off to drop Bella home first, Jasper asks the obvious question.

"How the heck did Jake remember you from Clacton? I didn't see you there."

"Yes you did, but you didn't realise it," I admit, "and I didn't recognise you either. Emmett and I were in the Coach and Horses with two other guys when the girls came in to use the ladies room. When we drove up behind you on the road on the way home, I slowed down and had a go at Jake for taking Bella into danger. I was over-protective of her even then. I'd no idea it was you at the front of the pack though because I'd only seen Bella when she came back to get her scarf. I thought you looked familiar from behind but I forgot all about it until now. Also I had no idea you were a Mod at the time and you had no idea I was a Rocker, so neither of us were expecting to see anyone there we knew."

"Another coincidence," Jasper muses. "Jake's not going to keep his mouth shut about this though and he's going to spread it all around that Bella's going out with a Rocker. He's a sore loser and those bouncers made him look like an idiot back there. He'll be wanting revenge, so if I were you I wouldn't go anywhere near The Roxy again and I'd be careful when you're out in Poplar with Bella from now on."

"I'm not intending to go back to The Roxy, which is a shame because it was good fun and the music was great, but I'm getting a bit old for that sort of thing to be honest. I'm not going to stop Bella going if she wants to though."

"I'm not going back if you're not there," Bella sighs. "Jake will give me too much grief if he thinks I've changed sides and I'm going out with a Rocker now. It's not worth the aggravation."

I can tell she's disappointed so I hold her tight and keep giving her small kisses on her forehead until we pull up outside her house. I walk her to her doorstep and this time give her a lingering kiss goodnight, not caring that the curtains are twitching in her living room. She looks really tired and I can tell she's stressed about what happened tonight and the interview with the police tomorrow.

"Jasper and I will pick you up at eleven, okay?" I whisper. "Try and get a good night's sleep tonight and don't worry about the police. We're doing this to keep us safe."

Bella nods her head then wraps her arms around me for a final hug. "I wish you didn't have to go home," she says wistfully.

"Me too," I sigh then I kiss her again before she goes indoors.

We drop Alice off next and while we're travelling back to Kensington I make a snap decision.

"I've decided to buy a car, Jasper. I've still got a bit of money left from Grandpa's inheritance so I'm going to blow some of it on something a bit special. I can't have you taxi-ing me around all the time and as Bella's not allowed to go on my bike, I'm going to have to get something with four wheels."

"Good idea," he agrees. "What are you going to get?"

"Something fast, but it's got to be small so it'll fit in the stable. I'll have a think about it tonight."

"So you're not going to get rid of the bikes?"

I thought about it for a few seconds but I knew I wasn't ready to part with them just yet.

"No, I'll hang on to them for a while. Are you keeping your scooter?"

"Nope. One of Tyler's mates is having it. I told the boys I was selling it and agreed a price. I'm giving it to this guy for a lot less than its worth, but it's not like I need the money now."

We park up outside the mews and wander into the empty house.

"It's shit not having the girls here, isn't it?" Jasper sighs as we wander up the stairs.

"Yep, but hopefully not for much longer," I promise myself.

I go to bed almost straight away. I'd been a Mod for just over five hours but that was enough for me. Even though the music in the club was probably the best I'd ever heard and the atmosphere was electric, I couldn't risk going back there with Bella as Jake wouldn't be able to look past the fact that I was the Rocker who had a go at him. It was at times like this I admitted to myself, not for the first time, how utterly stupid and childish this feud was between the two cultures. This juvenile rivalry had now ruined an important and enjoyable part of Bella's life which was crazy.

Sleep is a long way off so before I switch the light out I replay the evening in my head, which up until the last fifteen minutes had been great. I could understand why Bella loved the place so much and I feel incredibly guilty that my surprise visit has probably ended it for her for ever. Hopefully Jake's path will never cross mine again and it can all be forgotten but I doubt it, as we both behaved like children. Him having a go at me because I'm a Rocker, and me taunting him back, calling him a tosser and then kissing Bella in front of him like she was some sort of prize for the winner. We were both totally idiotic. On reflection I'm just as big a jerk as he is. He obviously still has feelings for Bella and I can't blame him for that. If she dumped me some time in the future and I saw her with someone else, I would be looking for an excuse to beat the guy to a pulp as well.

I'd wanted to experience The Roxy as I knew how much it meant to her, and also to prove to her I was willing to make an effort to meet her friends; the majority of whom seemed to be great people. However I own up to myself that my underlying intention was to one day wean Bella away from that world and totally immerse her in mine. Because she feels she can't go back there now, I know it was wrong to even think that, as she's her own person and has a life that's separate from mine which is right and proper. If I try to stop her doing things that make her happy because of my over-protectiveness, then she will soon become resentful I'm effectively stifling her independence.

The stupid thing is that even though I still have the clothes and the bikes, I have no interest in referring to myself as a Rocker any more. I hadn't had a chance to tell Emmett yet that I'd decided I was walking away from the Ace and all the social aspects associated with the pack, as I hadn't seen or talked to him since Brighton and owed him a phone call. Now he was with Rosie I was confident I wouldn't lose touch with him, but apart from Sam who is a decent chap, there was no-one else from the Ace crowd who I desperately wanted to stay acquainted with.

I switch off my bedside lamp and try to relax but Jasper is still crashing about in the bathroom and there are a couple of angry cats yowling at one another under my window. I give up trying to sleep for the moment and think about what to do about Tara and Sadie. I know I'm not ready to part with them yet, despite having no desire to go out on them at the moment other than get to Bella's and back, so when I get a car I won't need to use them at all. As I lie on my bed trying to get my mind around actually selling them sometime in the future, I can hear several motorbikes roaring around the local roads, but the sound doesn't move me as it has done previously, which confirms to me that my love-affair with biking is definitely waning.

Jasper comes out of the bathroom then goes in his room and slams the door. I feel like shouting at him to be a bit more considerate, but the noise of the motorbikes is getting louder so there's no point. It's unusual to hear powerful motorbikes in this part of Kensington, other than mine of course, so I'm curious to see what's going on. I wonder whether it's Alec bringing his BSA Bantam to his house at last, so for curiosity's sake I can't resist getting out of bed and taking a look.

I wander over to the window and tweak the curtain an inch, just in time to see the headlights of three heavy-duty motorbikes riding into the mews. They come to a halt about four houses up from mine but leave their engines running. The light from the street lamps is dim where they've stopped, but is still sufficient for me to recognise the man in the middle of the pack.

He lifts his right hand up to his face and makes his fingers into the shape of a gun, then points it in the direction of my house and pretends to fire several times. I can't make out whether he can see me, but he throws his head back and laughs maniacally then turns his bike around and roars away the way he came followed by the other two bikers.

My knees weaken underneath me and I feel physically sick. Somehow James has tracked me down and found out where I live, so until the police catch him and put him behind bars, none of us are safe anymore.

* * *

 **Bella**

I take some pain-killers when I get home then go straight to bed and curl up in a ball hugging the teddy bear hot water bottle I've had since I was a kid. I can't sleep though as I'm re-living the confrontation between Edward and Jake over and over. I really thought Jake was going to hit him, but luckily the bouncers dived in to stop the situation escalating and no-one was hurt. Because of this, I know I can't go back to The Roxy anymore which I'm really sad about, but knowing Jake's nature it's inevitable he won't let this go, even if I show up without Edward. I debate whether to visit him at his home and tell him how Edward saved me from being attacked by other Rockers, but at the moment I don't think I could face another confrontation with anyone; I've got enough to think about at the moment without having to deal with the pathetic feud between two warring factions.

I really am nervous about the interview with the police as I've no idea what's going to happen. Maybe they won't believe me, or accuse me of leading the Rockers on by wearing a short skirt or something ridiculous like that. Edward said there would be a woman police officer there, so hopefully she'll be more sympathetic. The more I think about giving evidence to the police the worse I feel, and now I know why men like James don't get reported as it's too stressful. If I didn't have Edward to support me, there's no way I would risk going to the police about this as it would make me a target for retaliation.

Not only that, in just over twelve hours' time Edward will find out what James and his thugs did to me and I know he'll be incensed and that worries me too. I'm going to play it down though and I'll try to convince him that I've already got over it, even though I've been having bad dreams most nights and I get distracted when I'm at work ever since it happened. I don't want him to worry about me every minute of the day but I know he will if he realises the state I'm in. I'm confident he loves me, but he has other pressures in his life to deal with at the moment, like his job and his dad's illness, and I don't want to be a burden to him.

Alice has her photoshoot tomorrow and I really wish I could be going with her to meet Barbara again rather than making my statement. I just have to remember that this time tomorrow it'll be all over and done with. I'll be able to relax in the knowledge that I've done my civic duty and consequently James will be arrested and charged and hopefully remanded in custody. Then I get my head around the fact that this is just the start of a long process of identification, more statements and the inevitable court case, which means mum and dad will eventually have to be told what happened, my work will definitely find out, so the whole situation isn't as simple as just making one statement and walking away. Then if he's found 'not guilty', Edward and I will have to go into hiding, because a psychopath like James would never let this go.

I shiver when I consider the implications of what I'm doing and whether it's worth risking my own safety by reporting him, but then I think of how I would feel if I saw his face on the six o'clock news and he'd murdered someone. I would never forgive myself.

I turn my thoughts back to Edward and I know without question he'll do his best to protect me, even if it means leaving the country for a while. With that possibility in mind, I fall asleep, dreaming of lying on a deserted white sandy beach with Edward rubbing sun cream in my back, and then he would...

* * *

 **Saturday 23rd May**

Edward and Jasper arrive to collect me at eleven as promised but something's up with Edward. He's definitely distracted and has a permanent frown on his face, but I put this down to him being anxious about what I'm going to divulge to the police. I ask him if he's okay and he mumbles a confirmation, so I just snuggle up close to him and keep quiet during the journey. Even Jasper's silent for once so I know something's up, over and above what's going to happen today.

I'm getting to know my way to Edward's house now. I'd never had any reason to go to Kensington before meeting him as most of the shops on the High Street are too exclusive and expensive for my pocket, and the houses near to Edward's are out of this world. I can't imagine ever living in anything so big and roomy and frankly I don't think I'd feel comfortable. Edward's little house is cosy and I already feel at home there.

We turn into Edward's mews and I'm surprised to see a policeman standing outside Edward's door, even though it's not midday yet.

"They're already here," I stutter and my stomach starts to churn with anxiety.

"He's not here to see you, Bella," Edward growls angrily. "I'll tell you why he's here when we get indoors."

I stumble as I clamber from the campervan because my legs have gone to jelly, so Edward puts his arms around me and leads me through the door and up the stairs to the living room. Jasper offers to make coffee so Edward and I can be alone for a moment. He guides me over to the sofa and pulls me down beside him.

"What's happened, Edward?" I ask as it's obvious now that there's something else going on rather than just the interview. "Please tell me because you're frightening me," I plead.

Edward puts his arms around me and kisses my forehead before explaining.

"After Jasper and I got home last night, I heard motorbikes driving around the area and they stopped in front of the house. Out of curiosity I looked out my bedroom window and spotted James at the top of the road with two more bikers. I didn't go back to bed; I phoned 999 and they sent a car around straight away. They've given me, I mean us, twenty-four hour protection as long as you stay here with me."

I can't help gasping when he says this as I know any suggestion of me moving in with Edward will go down like a lead balloon at home.

"I can't stay here, Edward. Mum and dad will never let me. There's got to be another way?"

"There isn't, Bella. We're lucky to have one policeman guarding us as it is. If I was just another John Smith with no social connections, I'd be on my own. I can't ask for any more protection."

Edward shakes his head then puts it in his hands and squeezes his temples in frustration.

"I don't know what to do, Bella. James is definitely after us and he won't give up. I just want you to be safe. I'm positive he doesn't know where you live at the moment as I'd guess he'd go after you first. You're the bigger prize, and if he had you, he'd presume I'd come looking for you and he'd be right."

This situation has escalated out of all proportion and control and now I'm seriously terrified James will find me and Edward and carry out his threat. I'm contemplating suggesting Edward and I run away together until all this is over and James is in custody, (Gretna Green being my first option), but my thoughts are interrupted by a bang on the front door and I jump in fright.

"It's just the police," Edward reassures me and slides his arm around my shoulders and rests another lingering kiss on my forehead. Jasper lets them in and we both stand when I hear them coming up the stairs, but as soon as the officers appear in the living room and I see the woman police officer with her notebook ready, I fall apart when reality hits me like an express train. My plan to convince Edward I'm over the shock of the attack is now completely in tatters.

The policewoman rushes over to me and puts her hand on my shoulder.

"There, there dear," she says in a kind voice. "There's nothing to worry about. We're looking after you now."

Her sympathetic words make me cry even more and I sob into Edward's chest. "I'm so sorry," I mumble as I wipe my tears away on my sleeve. "I thought I'd be okay."

"You will be okay," the policewoman replies firmly. "You're suffering from a severe stress reaction, which is common when you've been through a traumatic experience. Talking about it will help, so let's sit down, draw some breath, and then you can tell me what happened in Brighton."

I nod in agreement and allow Edward to lead me back to the sofa. The policewoman sits in the armchair opposite and flips over the top page of her notepad.

"Would you prefer it if Mr Cullen left the room, Isabella?" she asks.

"No," I reply without even thinking. "He needs to know what happened. I don't want to keep any secrets from him anymore."

"That's very good," she says and smiles. "Let's start at the beginning then and you can tell me first of all why you were in Brighton on Sunday."

I tell her about being there for work and interviewing Barbara Hulaniki for the newspaper. She'd heard of Biba, which surprised me as she was in her late thirties I'd guess. I didn't realise how out of the fashion-loop I was and then I wondered whether she'd bought a copy of the Advertiser and had read my article last night prior to meeting me. I mentioned that Alice was with me and we'd had lunch after the meeting then decided to walk to the promenade to kill some time before our train home. When I get to the part when the Rockers were coming towards us I start to cry again.

"Hey, hey, Bella," Edward says as he pulls me into his arms. "You're doing really well. Just take your time, okay?"

I take some deep breaths and carry on, knowing full well I was coming to the part that would send Edward over the edge.

"Alice managed to run away from them, but I was grabbed from behind by a man called Jimbo who Edward knows as James, plus another man who I think may have been called Donny. James pulled my hair really hard and while the other guy was holding on to me to stop me escaping, James…..squeezed my cheeks with his fingers and then…and then…and then, he licked my face across my mouth."

I felt Edward tighten his grip on me but he didn't say anything, but I could sense his anger building as I'm sure he was imagining that filthy human being doing this to me.

"What happened next?" the policewoman asks.

"One of the other guys asked James what he was going to do with me and he said… he was going to… " I start weeping again then but I carry on through the sobs. "He said he was going to fuck me hard after he'd knifed some Mods. Then he told his mates they could have me afterwards."

Edward hisses through his teeth and I can see from out of the corner of my eye that he's put his free hand over his face. I'm guessing he's distressed but I can't look at him as there's worse to come.

"He… he… touched me then," I choked.

"Where did he touch you, Isabella. Would you like to show me?"

"He put both his hands on my chest and squeezed my breasts and said he was looking forward to seeing them in the daylight."

Edward jumps to his feet then and I really start crying then.

"That's it! I'm going to kill the fucking bastard when I get my hands on him. I don't care if I have to spend the rest of my life in prison. That piece of shit shouldn't be on the streets."

"Calm down, Sir."

The male officer spoke for the first time and stood up from his chair. I'd totally forgotten he was there as he wasn't in my line of vision. I put my hand out and grabbed Edward's arm so I could pull him back down on the sofa next to me.

"I can't do this without you, Edward," I state firmly. "I've got to finish this, okay?"

"Okay," he replies and puts his head in his hands again, but suddenly I feel an inner strength building in me and a determination to get through this without weeping anymore. I have to show Edward I'm strong or he'll go to pieces as well.

I take some more deep breaths and give her the rest of the story without hesitation.

"When James touched me I kicked him hard in the shin. I know I hurt him because he winced, but he slapped me hard on my face then told his friends 'he liked it when they struggle'. He slapped me again, then told two of the guys to hold on to me until he got back, then he jumped over the sea wall onto the beach. I saw him running towards the Mods with his knife in the air and he was screaming loudly he wanted to kill someone.

"The two men holding me were touching me all over my body while I was struggling, then one of them stuck his hands between my legs and tried to pull my underwear off. I stomped on his foot really hard and started yelling for help, but the one on my right put his hand over my mouth to shut me up, so I bit him really hard. He punched me several times in the head until I let go."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Edward and also from someone outside the room. I guessed Jasper was sitting on the stairs listening to all this but I didn't mind. He would be able to help Edward deal with this afterwards. He was the nearest thing to a brother Edward had and I was glad he had someone else other than me to talk to about what happened.

"Edward and one of his friends turned up then and laid into the two men who were holding me and I fell on the ground. Edward helped me up and we were preparing to escape the scene on Edward's bike but James had seen the confrontation and realised I was getting away. He came off the beach and ran towards us with his knife in the air and just missed stabbing us by inches, but he was shouting threats saying he was going to kill us when he caught us. His pack chased us through the town and out into the countryside but Edward managed to lose them a few miles out of Brighton. That's it, end of story."

The policewoman leaned forward and looked me in the eye.

"Isabella, were you in fear for your life?"

"Absolutely," I replied. "He definitely intended raping me and he told the others they could have me after. He didn't attempt to hide his face either and I saw it clearly, so there's no way he was going to let me walk free and tell the police what he'd done. From what he said, I wouldn't be surprised if he'd done this before. He alluded to it when he was threatening me by saying, 'he liked it when they struggle'."

Edward joined in the conversation then. He was visibly shaking and I guess was ready to explode, so when he spoke it was in slow, measured words, like he was trying to control himself.

"When James was at the Ace Café, he boasted about what he liked doing to women. Rough anal sex was the thing he liked talking about the most, but we just used to ignore him, because not even a prostitute would go anywhere near him because of the stench. He's probably infested with lice or worse so rape is probably the only option open to him. I confronted him about this a few weeks ago and he threatened to kill me and my friend in front of about forty people. The other Rockers in the Ace backed me and he was barred from setting foot in the place again, which is another reason he's coming after me."

The WPC was rapidly scribbling everything down then she turned to Edward and looked him in the eye.

"In your opinion, do you think this man is a danger to the public."

"Most definitely. For a start he carries a flick-knife which is illegal, but most importantly he relishes confrontation. He wouldn't hesitate to kill or maim anyone who stood in his way or crossed him. I genuinely believe he won't rest until he's got his revenge on me and has attacked Bella. I'm not a psychiatrist, but I know enough to recognise a psychopath when I see one."

Edward flung his arms around me again and mumbled something incoherent in my ear.

The male officer stood up and pulled some printed forms from a leather folder he was carrying.

"We just need your personal details now, Sir, and yours Isabella. Can you fill these forms in and give them back to my colleague. We'll get your statements typed up then bring them back for you to check-over and sign. I'm going to talk to the officer outside now, but thank you for your co-operation. We'll get this good-for-nothing reprobate off the streets, don't you worry."

My hands were shaking so much I could hardly hold the pen, but I managed to fill in the form which asked for my name, home address, date of birth, where I worked, contact telephone number, et cetera. I handed it back to the policewoman who put it with Edward's in her file then stood up to leave.

"You've been very brave, Isabella. The vast majority of girls don't come forward when they've been sexually assaulted, which plays into the hands of violent men like James. We'll get him, I promise."

Edward and I are too emotionally exhausted to stand and see her out, so Jasper takes over and I can hear him speaking to her in the hall. Edward pulls me into a prone position and we cuddle together on the sofa not speaking for quite a while. He's so quiet I suspect he's gone to sleep but his eyes are wide open and he's staring at the ceiling.

Jasper comes into the room just after one o'clock and quietly tells me he's off to get Alice from the photographer and would bring her back here. I acknowledge I've heard him, so now Edward and I are on our own, apart from the police presence by the front door.

As soon as we hear the latch click, Edward starts apologising to me again in a voice shaking with emotion.

"I had no idea what you'd been through, Bella. I'm so sorry. Those bastards violated you and I don't know how you can sleep at night. I'm so…so fucking angry."

"Edward, I… " I began but he carried on talking.

"It's not just James and his thugs; it's the perverts at the Express who treated you appallingly as well. Its men like that arse in Lyons who was abusive to you. Believe me, Bella, not all men are like that. Most of us are kind and …"

"I know they are, Edward," I interrupt. "You don't have to apologise for men like James or Arrow. James is a psychopath, so there's no excuse for him, but perverts like Arrow and the arse in Lyons have been conditioned to treat women like they're worthless, which is why they get away with it, so it's partly society's fault."

"What do you mean?" Edward asks.

"You just have to look how women are portrayed in books or films or on the TV. Did you see the latest James Bond film for instance? Practically every attractive woman is in a bikini and the clever women are always ugly. Women are objectified and sexualised, in other words only fit for one purpose. In the workplace, ninety percent of the time they're subordinates with no rank, no status, less money and no prospects. The boss always has the secretary with the biggest tits, right? Tell me that isn't true?" To prove my point about status, just now the male police officer called me 'Isabella'; but he called you 'Sir' or 'Mr Cullen'. You didn't notice that, did you?"

Edward didn't respond but just shook his head.

"Girls nowadays expect to be treated and spoken to in this way and woe betide if they stand up for themselves if they feel they're being disrespected. They have to conform to the society's idea that women have less worth than men otherwise they're ostracized. More importantly though, men like James and Arrow are confident they'll get away with anything, because 'nice' girls hardly ever report it if they're raped or assaulted. I mean, what self-respecting gentleman would consider marrying second-hand goods?"

"It's not as bad as that, Bella. It wouldn't have bothered me if you'd had other partners. When we made love in the field, I wasn't sure whether you'd been intimate with Jake, but it wouldn't have made any difference to me."

"That's very noble of you, Edward, but tell me honestly now, how many girls or women have you had sex with before me?"

Edward went quiet. I didn't know if he was counting in his head, but he looked embarrassed.

"Come on now, be honest. It wouldn't bother me if it was ten, twenty, thirty or a hundred."

"More than fifteen probably, mainly at university, but quite a few of them were one-night stands."

"Okay, now forgetting the fact I'm only eighteen, how would you feel if I said I had slept with fifteen men before I met you? Huh!"

"Bella….."

"You would have thought of me in a totally different way and you would _definitely_ have thought twice about having a relationship with me, because I would be … let's see, what do men call a girl like that … a slag… a whore… a tramp… or just a tart, which is what the man in Lyons called me?"

Edward huffs but he knows I'm speaking the truth. Girls like Jessica are looked down upon by men in general, but studs like Edward are applauded for their manly prowess. I don't blame Edward, but society has a lot to answer for.

"I'm just a young girl, Edward. If this goes to court, even with your clout behind me, what are they going to accuse James of? Licking my face? Grabbing my breasts? Slapping me around the face? Saying he wanted to have sex with me? Big deal! Any decent barrister would get him off the hook and he'd walk free. More than likely I'd be blamed for wearing a short skirt and leading _him_ on. But he had a knife, so could've seriously hurt people, in other words _people like them,_ and that's the only thing he'll be tried for.

"The WPC asked you whether you thought he would be a danger to the public; that's all they care about. What he did to me is circumstantial to what the police think is the more serious crime, which is threatening behaviour and carrying an illegal flick-knife. At the moment they're just humouring me because you're you. In other words, the only reason those police officers were here today is because of who your father is. If I'd have been the girlfriend of anyone else, I'd be on my own."

Edward knew I was right and he put his head in his hands. Edward is a wonderful guy, but even he had been conditioned to not notice when women were being belittled by other men, even though there was absolutely no malice involved as men, like that policeman, didn't even realise they were doing it. More importantly, James' attack on me was much less important than the possibility that he could use his knife and could potentially commit murder.

"You're right, Bella," he sighs. "When I first reported this, until I dropped my father's name the police weren't interested. I can't imagine what they would've said if it had been just you going in to the station on your own. I don't know what I can do to put this right, but I'll do my best. In the meantime, all I want to do is protect you, and I don't know how."

"You need protecting too, Edward. James knows where you live now so you're in danger, but until he actually attacks one of us he'll only be charged with possessing an illegal flick-knife. Everything else is hearsay. I'd love to stay here with you, but my parents definitely won't allow it. Also, I'd be in greater danger here. It would be better if you moved in with me."

Edward nods his head in agreement and was obviously contemplating my suggestion when Alice burst through the front door and rushed up the stairs. Jasper had obviously told her how distressed I was as she flung her arms around me and hugged me so tightly I thought she was going to crush my ribs.

"This is terrible," she cries. "Neither of you are safe here, so Jasper and I have come up with a brilliant idea."

"Out with it then," I reply. "I need some cheering up."

"Jasper and Edward can live in his mother's Park Lane apartment while she's away, and _you_ are going to come and live with me until all this is over and James is off the streets. We thought about you staying at home with your parents, but if James has been clever enough to find out where Edward lives, he might be able to track you down too. What do you think?"

I look over to Edward who is nodding his head in agreement.

"That's a great idea, Alice," he says. This place isn't safe, so we need to move out as quickly as possible. I'll start getting some stuff together."

Edward and Jasper both go to their bedrooms and we could hear them opening cupboards and throwing stuff into bags. I'm still feeling shaky but seeing Alice has cheered me up and I know I'll feel much safer living at her house, but what would I tell mum and dad?

Alice as usual reads my mind.

"We can tell your parents that my mum and dad are going away for a few days so you're going to keep me company. I'll get mum to speak to them if you like?"

"Okay," I agree without properly thinking it through. "I'll have to stay at home tonight, but I could move in with you tomorrow."

I didn't like the idea of lying to my parents but I didn't want them worrying about me. Alice's idea seemed like the perfect instant solution. Edward would be safe in Central London and I would be at a totally random address. James would never be able to find us there. When Edward came back into the room carrying a couple of large sports bags filled with clothes and other stuff I went over and slipped my arms around him.

"I'm sorry about spouting off about men and stuff. I've got off my soap box now, Edward."

"That's okay," he reassures me. "I'm proud you're standing up for women's rights. It's about time things changed and I'm sure they will in our lifetime. It's women like you who will make it happen but I know it will need men like me to alter men's attitudes and to support any laws that need changing, which is sort of defeating the object."

I laugh and stand on my tiptoes and give him a kiss.

"Okay, let's give making the world a better place a rest for the moment. I'm dying to see this Park Lane apartment and then you can take _me_ on a boat on the Serpentine. Agreed?"

"Agreed, and then you can come with me and help me buy a car. Agreed?"

I gasp in excitement and then blurt out….

"A Mini; you've got to buy a Mini…..please, please, please," I beg.

Edward's eyes roll towards heaven.

"You must be joking; I want something a bit faster than a Mini. I'm twenty-five, not fifty-five."

I visit the bathroom to wash my face while Edward is telling the policeman standing by the front door that we're moving out for the foreseeable future. When I stare at myself in the mirror, my eyes are puffy and red again and I look exhausted. Knowing a knife-wielding maniac is out to get me isn't ideal for a radiant complexion and I feel as though I've aged ten years in the last few hours. This situation is the stuff of nightmares.

I help carry some of the bags to the campervan then we all pile in and set off for Jasper's mum's apartment. Alice is up front with Jasper, and Edward and I are sitting behind and we're all trying to be jolly. Jasper has tuned the radio to a pirate station that's playing wall-to-wall American west-coast tracks including the Beach Boys' song _'Don't Worry Baby',_ which seems pretty apt in the circumstances.

With all the bags and cases stacked around us it's like we're going on holiday together, but we're all putting on an act. The thought that James and his pack are coming after us has shaken us to the core and each time we hear or see a motorbike close to the van, we all hold our breath.

London is a vast city, but is it big enough to hide us, and if so, for how long?

* * *

 **They really have got something to worry about now. A lot of you are asking whether James has found Bella's address in her bag in Brighton, but no, he hasn't. Next chapter you'll find out how he discovered where Edward lives.**

Bella is a prime example of how women who had been sexually assaulted were treated by the police back then. If she'd been the one to report what happened to her rather than Edward, son of Lord Cullen, there's a 99% chance she wouldn't have been taken seriously and no action would have been taken. It's only in the last twenty years or so that sexual assault and rape has been treated much more seriously, (DNA testing has helped), but still only a very small proportion of attacks are reported to the police for all the reasons I've mentioned here. It is much better than before, in that women (and men) are listened to when they report an attack, but it is still difficult to make a prosecution stick when it is one person's word against another. Of course there are a lot of men who have been wrongly and maliciously accused, which makes the job of the police very difficult.

FYI

In 1964, you had to be twenty-one before you could get married without your parent's permission (it is now 18). For desperate couples, a trip to **Gretna Green** in Scotland was a way around this, as you could get married without permission at the age of sixteen across the border. There is a famous Blacksmith Shop in the village where couples would get married over the anvil. It is now a tourist attraction.

 **Next time, Bella moves in with Alice, but James gets some help with tracking Bella down from an unexpected source.**

See you next time for the beginning of the end... (of the story)!

Joan xx


	34. Chapter 34

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 33**

 **Edward**

I've been to Jasper's mother's apartment several times before but I'm always astounded by the sheer opulence that's on show just in the golden foyer and the sparkling glass-walled elevators. Alice and Bella can't stop giggling all the way up to the penthouse, and I'm pretty certain from the looks they're being given, that the concierge presumes we've picked up a couple of street girls for a bit of fun. I'd taken on board what Bella said about girls and women still being seen as second class citizens and men not noticing when it happens in front of their eyes. I'm now determined to make sure Bella is treated with respect whenever she's with me so I make a mental note to make sure the concierge is aware that Alice and Bella are our girlfriends, before he makes any sort of snide comment that once spoken can never be retracted.

When we get into the apartment, Alice takes Bella on the grand tour and I can hear lots of oooh's and aaaah's, especially from the bathrooms which have more marble on show than Versailles. I'm actually relieved Bella has this as a distraction as the day so far has been doom and gloom. The interview process was traumatic for both of us, but I'm relieved I'm now fully aware of what Bella has been through. If James knew what I was feeling right now though, he would be praying the police catch him first because at this moment in time I actually want to kill him.

After Jasper makes us all sandwiches for lunch which we eat on the apartment's private open air terrace that overlooks Hyde Park, the four of us take a stroll over to the Serpentine for some light relief. It's a gloriously sunny afternoon so we hire two rowing boats and have races up and down the widest section of the lake. I whoop Jasper's arse of course because I rowed for Cambridge, but only for their Goldie crew. (I don't tell him though). Alice almost fell in the lake when she tried to grab hold of one of my oars as we passed one another, and we end up being shouted out by the guy who's in charge of the boats as we're making too much noise trying to soak each other, and, to be honest, behaving like juveniles. After our time is up and we're called in, we make our way over to the lakeside cafe, still laughing because all of us are wet through. We sit outside having coffee and cake while we dry ourselves off in the sunshine and Alice tells us about her photoshoot in her usual ebullient way.

"It was amazing," she proclaims excitedly. "The photographer took hundreds of pictures of me looking up, looking down, looking sideways, with pout, without pout, hand on face, hand on head, with hat, without hat; it was great fun."

"Was Barbara there?" Bella asks.

"Yes, she was there the whole time. She told me that when she saw how I'd done my hair and make-up in Brighton, she knew she'd found the 'look' she'd been searching for to go with the clothes. She says I'm a modern version of the 1920's 'flapper'. She's planning to use my face for some of her promotions, but she'll also show them to her in-house artist and ask her to copy my style when she's drawing fashions for the catalogue. My dad said I should patent my image, but I don't think you can do that, can you?"

I told her I wasn't certain whether she could because company or business law wasn't my avenue, but I told her to get some legal advice and I knew someone she could talk to. She hadn't signed a contract yet, and it was not as if she'd ever need the money because of Jasper's wealth, but business is business and she needed to know what her rights were.

When we've dried out, Bella and I leave Jasper and Alice at the café saying we'll be back at the apartment at about six o'clock and then we could go and have dinner somewhere. We walk hand in hand back to Park Lane where I hail a taxi and ask to be taken to the rough end of Tottenham Court Road where there are several car showrooms. The cab drops us off near the Ford dealers and we have a look at the Anglia's and Cortina's, but they don't impress me at all.

The next showroom is Triumph cars but we walk straight past the showroom without going in. Their two-seat sports cars are awesome but their four-seat models are old fashioned, unreliable and boring, and I definitely want four seats if we plan to go out with friends. I intended by-passing the Austin showroom as well, but Bella takes root on the pavement and refuses to budge as she wants me to look at the Mini's.

"I don't want a Mini," I plead. "They're stupid little cars with no oooomph! They sound like a spin dryer and don't go above sixty."

"Please," she begs. "Just go in and look at them for me, will you, Edward."

"Just for you," I say reluctantly so I follow her into the showroom where we're greeted by an enthusiastic young salesman obviously eager for his commission. I go straight to the point.

"My girlfriend wants me to buy a Mini. I'm not convinced. What's the fastest one you've got?"

I thought the guy was about to have an orgasm when I say that as he eye-rolls before rubbing his hands with glee.

"Well, Sir, if speed is your thing, then I'm sure you'd be interested in the Cooper S, which is the souped-up version of the Mini Cooper which has just won the Monte Carlo Rally. It's incredibly fast and lively and great fun to drive. We happen to have one parked behind the showroom. It was only delivered two days ago and was ordered for a client who can't achieve the finance now, which means if you like it, you could buy it immediately rather than be on the waiting list for six months?"

"Six months?" I reply, trying not to sound too shocked.

"They're sought after cars, Sir. Would you like to test-drive it?"

Bella is nodding her head vigorously so I agree to give it a go, just to please her of course I say to myself, but to be totally honest I'm _more_ than interested now.

We follow the salesman as he leads us through the showroom to a secure parking area at the back where there are several Mini's lined up in a row. My eyes are immediately drawn to a cherry-red one which looks different from the others. It seems slightly lower and wider than its neighbours and has different headlights and front grille. My first impression is that it looks as though it's ready to pounce on me, like a hunting cat, which takes me by surprise.

The salesman walks over to that very car and after opening the passenger door, tips the front seat forward so Bella can climb in the back. I have to move the driver's seat around to accommodate my long legs but get comfortable very quickly. When I've tested the pedals, I start the engine and wind the window down so I can listen to her engine, and I'm impressed that it actually sounds quite meaty, in other words nothing like what most Mini's sound like.

I gingerly move off and head towards the road, deciding to turn left and drive towards the City rather than the West End where the traffic is more congested. As soon as there's an opportunity to pull out, I put the car in first gear and roll it slowly onto the road, then put it in second gear, take my foot off the clutch while putting my other foot down hard on the accelerator. It moves so fast my head is flung backwards and I nearly hit the car in front of us.

"Fuuuuuuck" I yell and then apologise profusely to the salesman who had already taken the precaution of putting one hand on the dashboard and the other was gripping his seat. He's now grinning from ear to ear because he's obviously used to this reaction and is enjoying every minute of the thrill-ride. Bella is looking slightly shocked, but I can see the look of supreme satisfaction spreading over her face.

I slow right down and hang back until there's a nice long gap between us and the car in front, then put my foot down again and I'm blown away by the acceleration this little car can achieve. Also, being low to the ground, it feels as though we're going much faster than we actually are.

"This is fun," I admit as we belt along Tottenham Court Road and into the City. I can actually visualise myself driving this and it would easily fit into the stable with Tara and Sadie (until I sell them of course). I can see Bella grinning widely in my rear-view mirror which helps to make my mind up as this Mini would be 'our' car, rather than 'my' car.

I turn around at the earliest opportunity and drive it back to the showroom then park it in its original spot and help Bella from the back.

"Okay, I'll take it," I say to the salesman.

I thought he was going to kiss me when I said that.

We follow him into the showroom where we complete all the paperwork and I give him a cheque for the full amount. Unfortunately the cheque would have to clear before I can collect the car so I ask him to fit a radio, an eight-track stereo, some head restraints and seat belts before then as they're not standard equipment. Bella is hopping up and down with excitement by now and I'm delighted this has taken her mind off the events of the morning. The salesman assures me I would definitely have the car by next weekend which would give us something to look forward to.

We catch a bus to Park Lane then meet up with Jasper and Alice and have dinner with them in a nice little Italian restaurant which had just opened in one of the back streets. Neither Alice nor Bella had tried pizza before, so this was another first.

After we'd eaten, Bella brought us back down to earth and talked about moving in with Alice.

"I've decided I'm not going to lie to mum and dad. I'm going to tell them about the Rockers who assaulted me in Brighton and that they've come after Edward and the police have advised us both to live elsewhere until they're apprehended. I've never lied to my parents before, apart from silly little fibs when I was a kid, and I'm not going to start now. If we end up having to go to court, this will all come out and they'll know I didn't tell the truth which would hurt them."

She was right of course and it was the sensible path to take so we walked back to the apartment block and piled into the campervan and set off for Poplar.

I hold Bella in my arms for the whole journey. I'm yearning to make love to her again but that would have to wait a few more days. Keeping her safe was my number one priority now and speaking to her parents was the first step towards my goal.

* * *

 **Bella**

Mum and dad occasionally go to the pub together on Saturday nights as they have a piano-player there and the locals have a sing-song. Nobody can do sing-songs as well as East Enders and all the old war-time anthems would be belted out and it all gets very nostalgic. Occasionally you'd get someone (usually drunk), who thinks he's Frank Sinatra and would sing solo until he was told to shut-up, but most of the time it's communal singing with lots of alcohol consumed to aid the vocal chords. I occasionally go with them and it's really good fun but I haven't been for a long while. Mum said this morning she'd be going tonight so not to forget to take my key, just in case I came home early.

I feel really nervous as we pull up outside my house. Thankfully the lights are on so mum and dad are already home and are probably watching a bit of TV before going to bed. I've warned Edward that dad will have had a drink, so he might be a bit more aggressive than usual. As we pile out onto the pavement, I stop everyone before we walk up the path as I want to lay some ground rules.

"I'll do the talking," I say firmly. "I know how they're going to react, so just follow my lead, please."

I open the door and call out it's me. I can hear mum getting up from her armchair so I dash in as I want to speak to them together.

"Mum, dad, something's happened and I need to speak to you both. Don't panic, we're all okay, but I'm going to move in with Alice for a while."

"What do you mean?" mum gasps. "Aren't you happy here?"

"Of course I'm happy, mum. Can you just listen to what I've got to say before jumping to conclusions? Alice, Jasper and Edward are here with me and they can back-up what I'm about to tell you." I draw a deep breath and launch into what happened in Brighton.

"Last weekend, Edward rescued me from being assaulted by a pack of Rockers. I told you what happened when we got home, but I admit I played down what happened a bit as I didn't want to worry you. To be honest it was slightly scarier than I told you; in fact it was terrifying. Edward recognised one of Rockers and he knows this man is dangerous and a bit crazy. We thought that would be the end of it, but he's come after Edward and we've informed the police who've advised us both to move addresses. This man has somehow found out where Edward lives so he's moving to Jasper's parent's apartment in London. Alice says I can stay with her until this man is arrested. When that happens I'll come home."

Dad jumps out of his chair when I've finished speaking and shouts for the others to come into the living room.

"How do you know this man, Edward?" he spits accusingly. "What type of people do you hang around with if he's as dangerous as you say he is?"

"I know him from the Ace Café…," he starts explaining but dad butts in.

"I've heard of the Ace Café; it's a rough place from what I've heard. Not the sort of location where lawyers hang about. What the hell were you doing in there?"

"I wouldn't call it rough at all. It's a place where genuine enthusiasts meet to talk about bikes. I've been going there ever since I bought my first bike when I left university. Rockers and Hells Angels congregate there, I admit, but most of the guys at the Ace have proper jobs and families and mortgages and are not trouble-makers at all. This man was banned from the Ace a few weeks ago as he _is_ a troublemaker and we don't tolerate his sort there. He's just a violent thug disguised as a Rocker. He's after me in revenge for being barred as I instigated it, and also for rescuing Bella last weekend."

Dad turns to me and I can tell he's confused. He wants to be angry about the situation but he obviously realises my safety is the number one concern here.

"Alright, you can go, but I'm speaking to Alice's parents first to make sure they're there and they haven't gone off on holiday. There's going to be no hanky-panky going on, do you understand?"

"Dad!" I exclaim. "Edward has his own house and Jasper's got an empty apartment because his mum's away. If we wanted to get up to 'hanky-panky' as you call it, we wouldn't have to be sneaky about it. Can't you just trust me?"

Dad harrumphed but Edward cut in.

"Mr Swan, Bella is my number one priority now. She's more precious to me than you could ever imagine and I'll protect her with my life, as I'm sure you would too, and I would never disrespect her or put her at risk either."

"They're fine words, Edward, but I'm still concerned. Let's hope this man's caught before anything happens. You're staying here tonight, Bella. You can go to Alice's tomorrow."

"I'll get my dad to come over in the car in the morning, Mr Swan," Alice pipes up. "You can talk to him then about rules and boundaries. By the way, Jasper isn't allowed in my bedroom, so don't worry on that score."

"Okay, enough of that talk," dad chokes out and I can tell he's embarrassed about the 'bedroom' word. I was still his little girl and would remain so until he walked me down the aisle so I wasn't going to push it.

"We'll say goodnight then," Alice proclaims brightly. "We'll be around in the morning, okay?" and I nod in agreement as I push the three of them out of the living room. Jasper and Alice shoot into the campervan while I say a proper goodnight to Edward."

"I'm sorry it's come to this," he mumbles with his face in my hair as we cuddle for the last time of the night.

"Stop apologising," I reply firmly. "It's not your fault James is a head-case. Off you go and I'll see you tomorrow."

I give him one final kiss and stand on the step to wave him goodbye. As the campervan draws away, I can't help checking up and down the street for psychopaths hiding in the bushes, but there's no-one there so I close the door and sigh, then wander up to my lonely bedroom. As I lie in my bed unable to sleep, I work out that it's two exact months to the day since I caught Edward staring at me in Lyons, and now I cannot contemplate ever being able to live without him.

* * *

 **Sunday**

Alice's father turns up just after eleven to collect me. While I'm loading the car up with my bags, he reassures dad that he'll 'keep an eye on me', which is dad-speak for 'no boys in the bedrooms'. Mum is quite tearful when I'm ready to leave and says she's been lying awake worrying about me all night, even though I could hear her snoring as _I_ was lying awake all night worrying about Edward. One bit of good news though, our telephone is being installed on Monday morning and she already has the telephone number; POP 1305. I memorise it and promise to call her every day from Alice's when I get home from work.

When we arrive at Alice's, Jasper is already there. He tells me Edward has ridden over to Emmett's house this morning as he hasn't seen him since Brighton and wants to talk to him and some of the other Rockers about James. He'd be back in the afternoon and would meet us in Park Lane, so after dumping my stuff in the spare bedroom, we set off for Jasper's apartment and kill time wandering around Hyde Park and listening to members of the public ranting from their soap-boxes on Speaker's Corner.

While Jasper was listening to a chap called Anthony Wedgewood-Benn talking about the inequalities in society, Alice whispers in my ear.

"Bella, I think I'm pregnant."

I didn't think anything else would shock me after what has happened in the past few weeks, but Alice totally manages to render me speechless.

* * *

 **Edward**

Jasper drops me off at the mews on his way to Alice's on Sunday morning. I call Carol's house at just gone ten o'clock to let her know I'm coming over to talk to Emmett. He wasn't there, but Carol said Rosie was asleep upstairs so he'd definitely be back later.

After I've got over that surprising, (but not surprising), piece of information, I tell Carol to ask Emmett to stay put until I get there. I guess he's gone to church as usual, but, as usual, I wouldn't mention it.

It's a beautiful, sparkly Sunday morning. The sun is shining in a baby-blue sky and the air is clean and fresh and smells of summer. There's no wind to chill me as I make my way towards Kilburn and I'm in no hurry to rush as I guess Emmett won't be home until about eleven.

Tara is performing beautifully this morning and it's almost like she's taunting me not to get rid of her. As I weave in and out of the slow-moving traffic she becomes part of me again, and I begin recalling all the good times we've had together. Driving the Mini yesterday was a reminder that I still loved speed, so maybe I've just been associating being on a bike with all the negative aspects of my life, which were amplified by the frustration of not being with Bella before we finally got together in Brighton. As the miles pass by I'm enjoying the journey even more, and it becomes obvious to me I'm not ready yet to give up my bikes, so I can put off that decision for another day.

Rosie is up and dressed when I reach Carol's house and she makes me tea and a bacon sandwich which is gratefully received, even though I've already had breakfast at Jasper's. I know I'm being ridiculous, but I can't help watching how she's moving to see if I can spot any changes in her posture or gait which would be evidence that she'd been negatively affected by Emmett's giant dick, but thankfully she's still able to walk and function normally.

Emmett breezes through the door at just after eleven while I'm half-way through my sandwich.

"Hey, Edward," he exclaims then high-fives me before going over to Rosie, planting a kiss on her cheek and slapping her bottom.

"Where's _my_ bacon sandwich, wench?" he cries. "Are you trying to starve me?"

Rosie giggles girlishly then throws a mountain of bacon into the frying pan. Emmett pours himself some tea from the pot and sits down at the kitchen table.

"How's it going, Eddie?" he asks cheerfully.

"Good and not so good," I reply philosophically. "Bella and I are an item now and James is trying to kill me. Other than that, pretty normal."

Rosie stops cooking and turns to me with her mouth open and Emmett sprays tea all over the table as he'd just taken a mouthful as I was speaking.

"You'd better give us the full story, Ed," he splutters as he's wiping his chin and the fortunately vinyl tablecloth, so I launch into a timeline of everything that had happened since we parted in Brighton, including what James and his thugs did to Bella.

"Jesus dude!" he exclaims. "We all knew James was borderline psychotic, but I thought he was all talk and no action. What are you going to do?"

"I've moved in with Jasper, and Bella is staying with Alice for the moment. The police say they're on the case, but apart from issuing every Bobby with a photofit of James, there's nothing much we can do until he's apprehended. I'm going to ride down to the Ace now and see whether there's anyone there who has any information on him, like where he's living, who he's hanging about with at the moment, that sort of thing. I'll pass anything I learn on to the police."

Emmett whistles through his teeth and looks at Rosie who by now is plating up three bacon sandwiches the size of doorsteps.

"Rosie and I were going to the Ace this morning anyway. On Friday the guys arranged to meet up at midday if the weather was good and go out for a blat. Are you up for it?"

"I'll come with you to the Ace and talk to the guys but then I'm going back to London."

"Okay," Emmett mumbles with his mouth full of sandwich.

"I'll go and get changed then," Rosie says and disappears out the kitchen and up the stairs. My eyes follow her but she still looks and acts like the same Rosie to me.

I couldn't keep my mouth shut; I had to ask.

"So you and my sister are really serious then?"

Emmett chortles as he shoves half a sandwich in his mouth.

"Yes, we are, but it's not what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking?"

"That my dick and your sister have become acquainted?"

"Well, have they?" I ask, even though it's none of my damned business. Emmett answers the question indirectly.

"Do you know where I've been this morning, Eddie?"

"I'd guess at church?"

"And your guess would be right. I'm not perfect, Edward, but I'm no sinner. The Bible says in so many words, 'no sex before marriage', and that's what I believe in. I'm not saying that your sister and I haven't had some loving moments, and there's a lot of stuff you can get up to without committing the cardinal sin, but that's as far as we're going until our wedding night."

"And she's happy with that?"

"Absolutely."

"Hold on a minute, did you just say 'wedding night'?"

Those two words had just registered in my brain and had taken a couple of seconds to sink in.

"Yep! I haven't spoken to your father yet, but I intend to sooner rather than later. I want to marry Rosie as soon as practicable. I might profess to be a Christian, but I'm still a hot-blooded male and its difficult being around her. I'm not exactly beating myself with chains at night, but the temptation to break my commitment to God is just about killing me."

"Holy Fuck!" I exclaim and then apologise profusely to Emmett for blaspheming, even though the words were apt in the circumstances.

Emmett roars with laughter then slaps me on the back.

"I've always wanted a brother, Eddie, and if I was choosing one off the supermarket shelf, I'd choose one just like you."

"Likewise," I reply as I re-align my shoulder blades, and I really meant it.

* * *

Half an hour later we're on our way to the Ace, which was the one place I never thought I'd set foot inside again. It actually feels good to be travelling behind Emmett and Rosie on the bike; roaring up beside them and occasionally overtaking, then being overtaken again. Rosie is laughing all the time; she's in her element and I've never seen her so happy; so free and easy. I'm beginning to rethink my decision to end my love affair with biking, especially as I can imagine Bella sitting behind me and going out as a foursome with my sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law.

We get to the Ace just after midday and there's quite a crowd gathering on the forecourt. I receive a warm welcome from the guys, including Tanya, who is sitting on Sam's pillion with her arm across his shoulders. I can tell by the way she's looking at me that she's subliminally telling me to back off and I nod my head at her to indicate I've got the message.

Emmett shouts out in his booming voice, "Eddie's got something to say before we ride off. Can you guys listen up for a minute?"

I cough a couple of times to clear my throat then commence telling the guys an abridged version of what happened in Brighton and that James has found out where I live. Then I ask for their help in getting information on where he hangs out and who his friends are; if he has any that is.

"I know his mum lives in Whitechapel," one of the guys shouts out.

"He told me he works on the Isle of Dogs for some freight company," another one yells.

"James came here last week asking about you, Eddie," Sam adds. "We told him to fuck off, but I saw him talking to a guy who doesn't come here much then they both rode off together."

"Shit!" I exclaim. "What did he want to know?"

"Where you worked, where you lived, if you had a girlfriend and where she lived, that sort of thing. He was really aggressive when we told him to sling his hook and he threatened all of us. He's a fucking psycho. We didn't tell him anything though as we presumed he was looking for revenge for what happened in the Ace."

"Thanks," I reply, "even though you guys don't know that much about me so couldn't have given him any useful information anyway."

To my dismay they all laugh at that statement until Sam comes up to me and pats me on the back.

"Most of the older guys know who you are, Eddie Masen, or should I say Edward Cullen, and we know who your dad is and what you do for a living, and we're pretty sure James does too. We've known since not long after you first started coming down here. See Pete over there?"

A skinny guy with scruffy black hair puts his hand up in acknowledgement.

"He was two years above you at Eton. His real name's Sebastian. His dad's a merchant banker and his mum's a model. See that guy over there?"

Another guy raises his hand and grins at me.

"He works at the court where you presented a case recently. You were spouting off about contracts or something boring like that. Not only that, most of us saw your picture in the paper after your dad's heart attack."

I'm shaking my head in denial by then. It feels like I'm in an episode of 'This Is Your Life' and Eammon Andrews is going to appear from behind one of the advertising hoardings holding a big red book.

Sam continues.

"Look Eddie, when we come down to the Ace we leave our day to day lives behind us. We all become different people as soon as we put our leathers on. I don't dress like this all day, none of us do, and none of us cares who you are or what you do for a living. To us, you'll always be Eddie Masen, a biker and a Rocker, if that's who you want to be."

"Right," I mutter, not knowing whether to feel stupid, embarrassed or what. I'd been playing the part of Eddie Masen for over three years now and for most of the time they'd known I wasn't who I said I was. I turn to Emmett and Rosie who are both beaming from ear to ear.

"So you knew who I was, even before I owned up when you saw the picture of me in the newspaper?"

"Yep," Emmett replied. "I only mentioned it because Carol recognised your picture and was planning on doing the housemaid thing with the tea tray. It's your business, Eddie. We don't judge here, unless you're an asshole like James."

"You should be on the fucking stage," I sort of hissed at him, but it showed the quality of the guy that he'd kept my secret for all this time and had not been tempted to mention it.

I needed to get the guys attention again so I shout out for them to listen.

"If you see James or know where he is, will you call the police, or if you'd prefer, call me. I'll give you my telephone number at my office and at my friend's flat in London. If I could have your phone numbers too that would be helpful. If he's arrested, the police may want to speak to you."

One of the guys had a notebook in the storage compartment under his seat so names and telephone numbers were exchanged and I was amazed that quite a few of the guys went by aliases, like Sebastian. I was grateful that the rest of them were just as eager as me to get James off the streets and I promised to let them know when he was arrested.

With about fifteen names and telephone numbers in my pocket, I give Rosie a kiss and a hug and wish them all a good trip before heading back to London. I don't feel at all envious as I pull away that they plan to have a fun afternoon tearing around the winding country roads north of London. My love affair with biking is being rekindled, but the thought of putting my arms around Bella again is much more appealing.

* * *

 **Monday 25th May 1964**

 **Bella**

Waking up in Alice's house is always great fun. I've stayed over many times since Alice and I became friends at school aged eleven and I've always been made to feel welcome by her parents. When I got to know her really well it was like having an instant-sister, which was something I'd always yearned for.

She bounds into my room like a kangaroo on happy-pills and flings herself on the bed. For someone who suspects they may be pregnant she seems remarkably cheerful.

"Come on, sleepy head," she chirrups like an annoying budgie. "Get up, get cleaned up, get dressed and get downstairs. Mum is making breakfast then dad will drop you off at the Advertiser."

"Really?" I gasp and then it sinks in that he's probably promised dad he'll do this every day until James is apprehended. I'm really very grateful, but embarrassed I'm being such a burden to this lovely family, even though I know my mum and dad would do the same if Alice was the one in danger.

I shoot out of bed and get washed and dressed as quickly as possible as I don't want to make anyone late for work. Alice's mum makes me poached eggs on toast and even packs me a sandwich for my lunch, and then of course I realise she's ensuring I won't need to go out and buy anything during the day.

I arrive in my office earlier than usual and get stuck into work quickly. The post bag contains lots of supportive letters and ideas for future articles, some of which are great, and Johnson tells me the paper's owners are very pleased with the amount of advertising revenue the pull-out is raising. The morning flies by and I end up eating my sandwich at my desk because I've so much work to do.

Johnson puts his head around the door just before four and tells me he's had a call in his office from a Pirate Radio DJ called Dave Diamond who's in the area today and is happy to give the paper an interview. He's arranged a meeting with a music executive at four o'clock in a trendy coffee bar which is roughly about a ten minute walk from the Advertiser, so he suggests Johnson sends a reporter at five and he would give him or her about twenty minutes.

"Do you want to do it?" Johnson asks me. "You can go straight home afterwards."

"Okay," I reply, then I think about the possible consequences of meeting a stranger in a coffee bar on my own. "Can I take Keith with me?" I shout out after Johnson.

"Sure," he replies and goes back to his office to inform Dave the DJ. I giggle at the name which I'm sure is made-up.

Keith is in the main office so I'm unable to tell him about the interview until just after half past four. He says that's fine, but he'll have to disappear promptly when we get back here at five thirty because he has a dentist appointment. Alice's dad has arranged to pick me up from the office every day at five-thirty, so the timings work out perfectly as Keith and I can walk back together.

At just before ten to five, I switch my phone through to Johnson and pack up my things. After saying cheerio to everyone in the Jungle, Keith and I leave the building and walk out to a warm and sunny evening, which feels extra-nice because I've been cooped up indoors all day. We set off at a brisk pace towards the coffee bar; our route taking us past the deserted, bombed-out industrial wasteland that lies between our office and the shops where the coffee bar is situated. We've been walking for about two or three minutes, chatting about Keith's wedding photos which he picked up at the weekend, when I hear running feet behind us.

Even though I haven't turned to see who's coming up behind me, I freeze on the spot as memories of being chased in Brighton flash through my mind. As the footsteps get nearer, I somehow know if I look over my shoulder, I'll see the same face that has been giving me nightmares every night since the day he assaulted me.

I close my eyes and wait for the inevitable weight of his filthy hands grabbing me. There's no point screaming as there's no-one around to help, and there's also no point in running like before because he's almost on top of me. If Keith is stabbed or is unable to fight him off, there's no way I'm going to escape this time.

James has somehow found me, and I know with absolute certainty that my life is in terrible danger again.

* * *

 **Edward**

Monday drags at work until about three o'clock when Jasper comes in to talk to Jenks about buying the company. Jasper's shareholders had made him a verbal offer for his part of Harry's business but he refused it as it was ridiculously short of what his share is worth. He told them to come back with a sensible offer or he would put his majority shareholding up for sale on the open market which he knows they don't want. He guessed the wheeler-dealing over the final offer would take some months, but after having a frank discussion with Jenks, the two of them agree to not rush their transaction through so that Jasper could get the best price for his father's shares.

I've just started thinking about packing up to go home when Jasper puts his head around my door.

"Fancy a drink after work?" he suggests with a grin. "I'm in the mood for a pint of something."

"Sure," I readily agree. "Let's make the most of the evening sunshine. Jenks won't mind if I leave half an hour early" I add as I grab my jacket and follow him down the stairs. We say goodnight to Margaret and Jane and walk out to a fine evening.

Fleet Street is world famous for being the home of practically every national newspaper in the land. Street vendors yelling the headlines at the tops of their voices are selling the evening editions by now and are stationed about fifty yards apart from one end of the street to another. Jasper and I have passed at least five of them before I glance at the headline on the Evening Standard and the words make me stop dead in my tracks.

 ** _GIRLFRIEND OF LORD CULLEN'S SON ATTACKED BY ROCKER_**

Jasper grabs a copy of the newspaper and throws some money at the vendor then holds the paper up so we can both read the story.

 _The Metropolitan Police have issued a warrant for the arrest of James Pearce, 29, whose last known address was Whitechapel, East London. Pearce allegedly attacked Miss Isabella Swan of Poplar during the altercation between Mods and Rockers in Brighton last weekend. He is known to be carrying a knife and should not be approached._

 _The Hon. Edward Cullen, son of Lord Carlisle Cullen, Master of the Rolls, reported the attack to the police, and his witness statement was corroborated by photographic evidence supplied by local reporters. Miss Swan, who works for the East London Advertiser as a junior reporter, is said to be very shaken by the incident._

 _The police have asked that anyone who has any information as to the whereabouts of James Pearce, should contact their local police station, or dial 999._

"Holy shit!" I exclaim loudly. "How long has this paper been out on the street?"

"An hour and a half maybe; why?"

"Because if James sees this, he'll know now that Bella's my girlfriend _and_ where she works, which means she's in dreadful danger."

I stare at the time on my watch and it's still nowhere near half past five which is when she leaves work for home, so I've got a chance to stop her leaving.

"We've got to get to a phone and tell her to stay in the building until we get there. I need to get back to the office, fast."

Jasper and I turn on our heels and run at full pelt through the crowded street. I'm screaming at the other pedestrians to get out the way as the office door comes into view. I'm also cursing to hell whoever it is in the police who has given Bella's location to the press, as their mind-bending incompetence has put Bella in acute danger. When I find out who it is I'll tear them limb from limb.

I know it's not yet half past five, which is when Bella usually leaves her desk, but as I burst through the office door I have a terrifying premonition that when I call the Advertiser I'll find out it's already too late. Bella for some reason will have already left the building and she'll be out on the street without realising the danger she's in, and once again she'll be walking blindly into the path of a maniac.

* * *

 **So someone in the police has stupidly given the story to the newspapers, including Bella's personal details, without warning either Bella or Edward that's what they were going to do. James and his cronies will know where she works now, so was that James waiting for her to come out the office? You'll soon find out.**

FYI

The famous Oxford and Cambridge boat race that is held on the Thames every year is now four races since the introduction of the women's competition. Both universities field four teams; their number one men and women elite teams, and their men and women reserve teams, which for the men are the Cambridge **Goldie** crew and the Oxford **Isis** crew. The reserves row first. To be chosen for any of the teams is quite an honour.

London is made up of two **'Cities'.** The City of Westminster, which is where Parliament and Westminster Abbey are, and the City of London, which is where St Paul's Cathedral, the Tower of London and the Law Courts are situated. If a Londoner mentions the **'City',** they are generally referring to the City of London rather than Westminster. I know it's confusing for visitors as they think of London as just one city.

At the corner of Hyde Park near Marble Arch there is an area called **Speakers Corner** which is a place where ordinary citizens can take a box to stand on, and speak to anyone who wants to listen about matters close to their heart - usually politics or religion. Anthony Wedgewood-Benn (aka Tony Benn) was a left-wing Labour politician who often used to speak there in the 60' and 70's and drew large crowds.

A **Bobby** is another name for a British policeman. The man who is recognised as starting the British police force was Sir Robert Peel, which is why they were called 'Bobbies', or 'Peelers'. Peelers is very rarely heard now, but Bobbies has stuck.

 **The next chapter will be a wee bit scary I'm afraid!**

Joan xx


	35. Chapter 35

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 34**

 **Edward**

"Get me an outside line, urgently," I yell as I skid to a halt in front of Jane's desk. Jane has the good sense not to question my instruction and pushes the phone towards me then looks askance at Jasper who's put his finger to his lips indicating for her not to say anything. My hands are shaking violently as I dial Bella's number at the Advertiser and wait for several agonising seconds for the call to be answered, then hear a voice bark…

"Johnson."

I knew instantly then that Bella wasn't at her desk and had already switched her phone through to her boss.

"Mr Johnson, this is Edward Cullen, Bella's boyfriend. I need to speak to her urgently. Is she still there?"

Johnson has obviously picked up the panic in my voice as he replies with no words of welcome.

"No, she left just before five o'clock to meet a DJ in a local coffee shop. Why, what's the matter?"

"You mean you let her go out and meet someone on her own, you fucking idiot. She's…."

"Hold on a minute, Cullen, don't you dare call me a fucking idiot. She's a journalist; she's doing her bloody job. Anyway, she took Keith with her. What's the big deal?"

"Because there's an armed maniac on the loose and he's specifically after Bella and me. The Evening Standard has just published where she works so he could be outside waiting for her. He could even be the DJ."

"Holy crap, Edward, I'll get someone to call the coffee shop and I'll get straight down there myself and make sure she stays put until you get there. You call the police from where you are and I'll hang on to Bella until you turn… oh shit!"

I hear a crash which is obviously Johnson dropping the phone.

"What! What the hell's happening?" I yell but no-one responds.

I can hear a commotion going on in the background and I'm nearly screaming in frustration as I can't see or hear what's going on. After about twenty seconds of agony I hear the phone being picked up from the desk.

"Edward, Keith's been attacked on the street. A member of the public has just brought him in and there's blood pouring from his head. He says a guy jumped him and knocked him to the ground but Bella has managed to run off. We're calling the police and an ambulance now but I think you'd better get down here fast."

I slam the phone down and turn to Jasper who's overheard the conversation.

"What do I do?" I choke. "He may already have her."

"She may have got away. Where would she go?"

"Home. She'll probably head straight for home. I'll call them."

My hands are shaking so much I can hardly dial the number that thankfully I've memorised. POP 1305. It rings three times before it's picked up.

"Bella!"

"No, Renee, this isn't Bella, its Edward. Something's happened and we think Bella may be heading home. Will you get her to call the Advertiser as soon as she gets in?"

"Edward, what's going on? Jake and Tyler have turned up here because they've seen a story in the evening papers about the man you're hiding from. Is Bella really in danger?"

"She could be, but could you put Jake on please."

I hear her shuffling about as she passes the phone to Jake.

"Who's the jerk now, Edward?" Jake hisses. "You and your fucking Rockers have put Bella at risk. If the newspaper is to be believed, there's a knife-wielding maniac after her. I'll kill you if something happens to her."

"Jake, just for once, can you put our differences to one side. Yes, there's an armed man after Bella and me and he may already have her, just don't tell her mother that. Bella is our only priority now, not some foolish Mods and Rocker feud. Jake, I need people out on the streets looking for her. She may be hiding somewhere near the Advertiser. Can you call whoever you can from your Mod pack and get them up there as soon as possible?"

"Okay, Edward. I'll start making some calls. But you and I have a score to settle."

"Jake…..for fuck's sake's will you grow up. This isn't a game anymore."

Then I slam the phone down.

"One more call," I say to Jane who is staring wide-eyed at me as I dial a number I know off by heart. It's answered straight away.

"Carol! I need to speak to Emmett urgently."

"Hi Eddie, hold on, I'll shout him. He's in the garage…Emmett…get in here quick, it's Eddie."

I hear Emmett coming through the front door.

"Hi Eddie, what's up?"

"James might already have Bella. Somebody was waiting for her outside the Advertiser and attacked the guy she was with. Bella's run off, but we don't know whether she got away. I need help. Can you call any of the boys on your list who are near this area and tell them to get up here? They know what James looks like and may recognise anyone who's with him. I need as many people on the streets as possible. If James is on his bike, he can't have got far with her if he's on his own so he must still be in the area."

"Leave it with me, Eddie, I'll get on it now."

I give him the rough location of the Advertiser which Jasper has scribbled down and handed to me then I put the phone down. I'm trying to stay in control but I can feel fury building up inside of me. I can't think of anyone other than the police who would know what happened to her in Brighton _and_ her personal details, like where she lives and works, so it must have been them who fed the story to the press. I do know if I encounter any of the police team handling this I'll probably end up being arrested myself because I won't be able to stop myself hurling abuse at them. Their unfathomable incompetency has put Bella in danger.

"Get a cab," I order Jasper then turn to Margaret and Jane plus all the other staff, including Mr Jenks, who are assembled on the stairs watching the drama unfold. They're all staring open-mouthed at the foul-mouthed guy they previously knew as polite, well-spoken Edward Cullen, and I realise they need an explanation, but I don't have time for more than one sentence.

"My girlfriend, Bella Swan, has possibly been kidnapped from outside her place of work, so there's a strong likelihood I may not be in work tomorrow."

With that I dash out the door and jump into the waiting taxi.

Jasper has already given the driver the address and the promise of a large tip if he can get us there as fast as possible. As I sink into the leather seat, I pay no regard to London as it flashes by; instead I put my head in my hands and promise myself that by the time this day is over, if Bella isn't safe and unscathed and in my arms again, I'll either have committed murder, or suicide.

* * *

 **Bella**

My head is thumping and my stomach is in knots as I come to terms with the truly terrifying situation I'm in. I'm too scared to move from my hiding place because I'm sure James and his thugs are out there looking for me, and the thought of what James will do to me when he finds me is too frightening to contemplate. I'm hiding in a deserted yard that leads to some bomb-damaged Victorian industrial units and my place of refuge from whoever it was who attacked Keith is under a pile of damp cardboard boxes and random pieces of wood. Since I burrowed into my hidey-hole, I've cried so much the sleeves of my coat are soaking where I've wiped my eyes on them, and even though the temperature is warm outside, I'm shivering, which is probably due to shock.

All I can remember of the attack is seeing Keith being grabbed from behind then being punched in the head by a man wearing knuckle-dusters. It definitely wasn't James, but I'm certain he was one of the men who held on to me while James was fighting on the beach in Brighton. I never got a good look at either of those men as they grabbed me from behind; also my eyes were so blurred with tears while I was their prisoner that their faces were distorted. However there was something about this man that looked familiar, and then I realise I recognised his tattooed fingers which were distinctive.

Keith was putting up a valiant fight, which gave me the opportunity to get away, but I realise now I should have attempted to get back to the Advertiser. I didn't know how much time I had to escape before Keith was overpowered or worse, but I guessed the man would have been able to catch me if I headed in that direction as there was nowhere to hide on the way back, so I panicked and attempted to make it to the row of shops where the coffee bar is situated which was nearer. I ran around the next corner and kept running as fast as I could until I heard a motorbike in the distance behind me then I dived into an alleyway between two disused buildings and ran right to the end, which is where I've been hiding under the boxes ever since, too frightened to emerge in case they're out there looking for me.

If I knew for certain Keith had made it back to the Advertiser to alert Johnson, I would know he would have called the police by now. But Keith could have been knocked unconscious or worse and could still be lying in the street, or he could already be in an ambulance on the way to a hospital or the mortuary. The road we were attacked on is little used by pedestrians as there are no factories or businesses between the Advertiser and the shops, just deserted and abandoned ruins. For this reason I can't risk venturing out of my hiding place and onto the road to look for help until I'm positive the police are out there looking for me and will protect me from that man.

I've heard the siren of one police car, but it passed the top of the alleyway really quickly before disappearing in the distance. Since then I've heard no evidence that anyone out there is searching for me, so I know I've got to stay put. Luckily I went to the loo before leaving the building, so at least I'm not desperate for a pee. It's strange that I'm looking for positives in this frightening and surreal situation.

I wrap my arms around myself and try to imagine Edward is with me and protecting me like he promised he would do. I'm hoping that somehow he's found out what's happened, but no-one at the Advertiser knows about Edward apart from Mike, but he's been out of the building all day on a job. So unless he calls in before the office empties for the night, he won't know what's going on. If Keith manages to get back to the office somehow then maybe Johnson will phone home, but then I remember I haven't given anyone our new telephone number yet so that's not going to happen either.

I'm sinking further and further into a pit of despair and I curl up in my den of cardboard boxes and start to cry again. I try to distract myself by recalling building dens in the garden with Mike when we were kids. We would use cardboard boxes, bits of wood, old blankets and tablecloths for the construction and we would pinch any food we could from the kitchen and have a picnic in our hidey-hole. We loved being under cover, especially when it rained. We would be all cosy in our little camp until the water finally seeped through and we'd have to run indoors when the roof finally collapsed on our heads. It's funny what you think about when your life's in danger.

My hearing is fine-tuning itself to the sounds around me so I'm able to pick out anything unusual or worrying, or hopeful. There's a continuous hum of traffic in the background and occasionally I can hear trains in the distance screeching along the railway tracks. The docks aren't far away either and ships sounding their horns as they pull away from their berths to start their journey towards the open sea, ring out clearly across the still air. Also I've quickly realised that the alley is the home of feral cats and there's obviously a territorial battle going on between some of them. Their howls make me jump at first but I'm used to them by now. I guess there're probably rats and mice in the area as well but I try and dismiss that troubling thought, hoping they would sense there's a human in the general area and would steer clear.

I can hear distant voices when someone passes the top of the alleyway but then they're instantly gone. I would catch one word or two before they're out of range and I'm tempted to run out and ask for help when I hear one of them, but I can't be sure it's not James or the man who attacked Keith searching for me so I can't risk it. Tears roll down my cheeks as I realise the world is still turning and life is still going on as normal for the people passing my alleyway, while I'm imagining mine is slipping away only a few feet from where they are walking.

As I lie as still as possible in my hidey-hole, my thoughts turn constantly to Edward and my family and I wonder whether I'll ever see any of them again. If James finds me I doubt it, but while I'm hidden I still have hope. I want Edward to know if the worst happens that I don't blame him at all. He mustn't take responsibility for James being a monster and a psychopath, but I know he will mentally shoulder the blame because he'll convince himself he let me down as he wasn't able to protect me. Most of all though, I want to tell him I love him again. I also want my parents and Mike to know how much I love them too, and they were the best family I could ever have wished for. I want to tell Alice she's been an amazing friend and to wish her well for her future with Jasper, but I have no means of telling any of them ... and then I remember my notepad.

Taking care to avoid shifting the boxes covering me, I open my bag and pull out the pen and pad I'd taken with me for the interview then carefully manoeuvre myself into position so I can start writing. My hands are shaking when I take the cap off my pen, so I use my left hand to steady my right hand and take some deep breaths. Even though I love my parents and Mike unreservedly, there's no question to whom my first letter will be directed.

 _Dear Edward,_

 _I hope you never get to see this letter and soon I'll be safe in your arms again. If you are reading this, it means James got to me first and this note has been found in my belongings. If this is the case, please don't blame yourself for what happened as it is not your fault._

 _After you risked your life rescuing me from James in Brighton, you took me to a wonderful place I never knew existed. You made me the happiest girl in the world, and I've never regretted for one second what we did together. I love you, and I know that you love me. Even though I never thought myself worthy of being with someone like you, you convinced me we were equals in every way, and for this I thank you._

 _Please don't risk your life and liberty seeking revenge for what has happened. You are too important, and you must carry on the fight for justice for everyone who has not been given an equal opportunity to succeed._

 _These last two weeks have been the happiest days in my life. I consider myself blessed to have been loved by you and whatever happens to me, I know I will see you again one day._

 _I'll love you forever,_

 _Bella._

I tear the page out of the pad and fold it up then put in in my bag. Before starting the next one to my parents, I carefully shuffle around to make myself more comfortable and start writing.

 _Dear Mum and Dad,_

And then I hear the sound of a motorbike stopping at the top of the alley, followed by the voice I'd been dreading, and I accept it's only a matter of time before I'm in the hands and at the mercy of a maniac.

* * *

 **Edward**

I spring out the cab as soon as it reaches the Advertiser's building leaving Jasper to settle the fare. A man who I guess correctly is Johnson is waiting for me by the door and after he ushers me in he blurts out what happened in rapid-fire sentences but I interrupt him.

"Have you called the police?" I unintentionally growl.

"They're on their way," he replies. "An ambulance has been called as well but they're taking an age. Keith is in the office if you want to talk to him before they get here. Also, we know that Bella didn't make it to the coffee shop because the DJ called us to say he was still waiting for her."

I stride through the building in the direction of where Johnson is pointing and spot a huddle of people around one of the desks. I barrel my way through and see the guy who is obviously Bella's colleague, Keith, being tended to by one of the female staff. He has blood seeping from a nasty wound on the back of his head and it looks to me as though his nose is broken. I can plainly see stud marks on one cheekbone so it's obvious the attacker has used knuckle-dusters.

"Keith!" I say loudly to get his attention. "I'm Edward, Bella's boyfriend. I need to know what happened and who attacked you. For a start, did he stink?"

Keith shakes his head automatically and then winces when he realises that was a stupid thing to do. "No… I had hold of him most of the time so we were quite close; I would've noticed."

"Okay, did he have long hair and a ponytail?"

"No, this guy had very short hair; I would guess it was dark brown or black. The only thing I did notice was he had tattoos on his neck and hands but I couldn't see what they were."

"Was there only one of them?"

"Only one guy attacked me, but after he knocked me to the ground there was another guy on a motorbike who was yelling abuse at him; calling him a fucking idiot for not waiting until he got there, or something like that."

"Anything else you can tell me?"

"When the guy attacked me first, I shouted at Bella to get away and she ran off in the direction of the shops, which was before the other guy turned up. I do Judo, so I managed to hang on to the guy's jacket as long as possible so he couldn't follow her but he managed to wriggle free then he punched me really hard in the face and I fell backwards banging my head on the pavement. The last thing I remember is seeing him running in the direction of the shops which is where Bella went, then getting on the pillion of a black and green motorbike that pulled up next to him and then zooming off. I couldn't see the other guy who was shouting at him because they were too far away by then and there was blood in my eyes; sorry."

As he finished speaking the police appear in the office doorway followed by the ambulance crew. I immediately spot Detective Rogers by the door and my supressed anger bursts out of me like a volcano.

"You stupid, fucking idiot," I yell across the room. "Because of your fucking incompetence, this guy's been beaten senseless and my girlfriend is possibly being raped and murdered as we speak."

I let the Medics get to Keith and stride over to where Rogers is standing with his hands on hips and an aggressive look on his face, which doesn't deter me one bit as I'm going to give it to him with both barrels.

"What possessed you to inform the newspapers where she worked and she was my girlfriend? Haven't you got an ounce of common sense in your head? You knew James Pearce was after her, you fucking imbecile."

"Don't speak to me like you know everything, Cullen," Rogers retorts angrily. "You public school boys are all the same; you think you're something special don't you? I'm warning you, if you speak to me like that again, I'll have you arrested."

"What for? Tell me what laws I've broken? Remember I'm a lawyer so don't you dare threaten me. All I've done is show you up to be a negligent prick who doesn't know what the hell he's doing."

"I've flushed Pearce into the open; you should be thanking me."

I nearly hit him when he said that. How I restrained myself I don't know.

"By using Bella as bait; is that what this is all about? You've risked my girlfriend's life to catch James Pearce, haven't you? You don't actually care what happens to her. In fact if she _is_ raped and murdered, he'll be worth arresting in your eyes. If the heroic Detective Rogers catches a murderer, he'll get a bigger pat on the head than if he's just caught a guy with a knife who threatens Mods and young girls."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Rogers interrupts angrily but I haven't finished.

"Did you ever consider giving Bella a choice, or warning her she was going to be used in this way? Where's her bodyguard then? Where are the policemen lying in wait to spring out and catch James in the act? At best you released Bella's details before you arranged the ambush, didn't you?"

I was incandescent with rage but Rogers doesn't respond. His silence convinces me one of these scenarios is definitely what has happened. I carry on yelling at him.

"If she's been attacked, in your eyes she'll just be collateral damage. You'll be expecting a medal and a promotion for getting a maniac off the streets while her family are left to grieve and pick up the pieces. But you're _so_ wrong. Whether or not we find Bella alive, Rogers, when I'm finished with you you'll be out of job, even if I have to call in every favour from my considerable arsenal of contacts to finish you."

"You wouldn't dare….."

"Oh I will dare, Detective. My father's a close personal friend of Sir Joseph Simpson, the current Head of the Metropolitan Police, in other words, your boss's boss's boss. Sir Joseph was at my parent's house less than two months ago and he's going to get the full story from me, so I suggest you get on that phone and get more police up here or I'm holding you criminally responsible for whatever happens to Bella."

Rogers' face drains of colour but I wasn't finished with him yet, however I needed to be outside on the street not wasting my time taking my frustrations out on an incompetent imbecile.

"I'm going out to look for my girlfriend now. The young man who's been beaten up has told me to look for two men on a motorbike and I've no doubt one of them is James Pearce."

"I'm coming with you," Johnson offers.

"Yeah, we are too," some of the other guys say, so we head for the exit and out onto the street. The first people I see outside are Jake and Tyler who are talking to Jasper.

"Any more news?" Jake asks in a voice trembling with emotion.

"Only that she ran off in that direction." I point left. "There are two guys on a motorbike after her but we've no idea whether they've found her yet. I've called a Rocker friend who's phoning round to get some of our pack up here to join the search. They know what James looks like and if they spot him they'll be able to chase him through the streets faster than any police car or scooter. The guy we're looking for has a long ponytail and stinks to high-heaven. He rides a Norton motorbike with a green petrol tank so that should be easy to spot. But be careful if you see him or the other guy. He carries a lethal flick knife and he's not afraid to use it. The other guy probably has a knife as well, so tell everyone to be wary and not to approach either of them unless they've got back-up."

As we're talking, several more scooters roar up and I recognise some of the faces from The Roxy. Jake passes on to his friends what I've said then he jumps on the back of Tyler's scooter and sets off in the direction of where I pointed.

I go back indoors and overhear Rogers yelling down the phone, telling whoever it was on the other end to get as many uniformed officers off their arses so they could join in the search for Isabella Swan. I pick up another phone and dial Bella's home again to see whether she's turned up there. This time I get her father and he's seething with anger. I tell him to send someone up to the bus stop just in case she's managed to get the bus home and James is following it. I don't want her snatched within sight of her own front door.

"You'll get this bastard, won't you, Edward?" Charlie stammers. "You won't let him do anything to my little girl?"

"I'll do my best, Charlie," I reply. "When I find her, I'll never let her out of my sight again until he's caught. I promise you that."

I slam the phone down and go outside to where Jasper is surrounded by another wave of Mods plus a few guys I know from the Ace who've turned up on their motorbikes along with some other Rockers who I don't recognise at all. Emmett has obviously been calling everyone he knows and they have in turn called other friends with bikes before setting off. Jasper is directing operations by shouting out James' description, plus a description of Bella and what she was wearing, then he sends the guys off to search in several different directions, instructing them to report back to the Advertiser every ten minutes.

Rogers comes storming out of the Advertiser and he's fuming.

"I'm in charge here, Cullen," he yells. "If anyone's going to be giving orders it's me."

"Too little, too late," I shout back at him with venom. "One thing this public schoolboy learned on the playing fields of Eton is how to take control in a crisis. You couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery."

I march over to where Rogers is standing and put my face close to his.

"If she doesn't come back to me in one piece, it's all on you, understand?" I hiss. "So I suggest you do something useful and coordinate your Bobbies while Jasper and I concentrate on our own search party."

I don't bother waiting for his reply but turn away and run over to Sam who's just arrived on his bike.

"Can I ride pillion?" I ask but before I have a chance to slide on, Alice's dad turns up in his car with Alice in the passenger seat. I didn't know that he'd arranged to pick Bella up at the end of the day so I tell Sam to wait while I sprint over to tell him what's going on. Alice shrieks and jumps out of the car straight into Jasper's arms while Alice's dad roars off to look for Bella.

I run back to Sam and we set off in the direction of the shops. Being on a bike in a business suit rather than my leathers feels very strange plus I very rarely ride pillion, but at least I can concentrate on looking around me rather than watching the road like Sam is doing.

As we're careering along the local roads between the Advertiser and the shops, I spot more and more scooters and motorbikes driving past us and they're obviously heading to the Advertiser for instructions. Word has got out, and Mods and Rockers from all over the city are descending on this part of London to help in the search for Bella. All rivalries and previous conflicts have been forgotten. Finding the Mod girlfriend of a Rocker is what has brought them together as one non-partisan team, and even though the situation for me is desperate, I feel a strange thrill inside me as I'm reminded that the human desire to do good overshadows everything else when the cards are on the table.

The area between the Advertiser's office and the shops is a wasteland of neglected buildings and litter-strewn streets. East London is gradually being rebuilt after the war, but investors have yet to turn their attention to this unattractive part of the City. The abandoned and bombed out industrial sites are a warren of unnamed streets and dark, overgrown alleyways and I hope and pray Bella has found somewhere safe to hide and isn't already in the back of a van being taken far away from here or being assaulted in one of these derelict warehouses.

I indicate to Sam we should turn back to check whether anyone has any news and we arrive at the Advertiser to find the road in front of the building packed with bikes and police cars.

"Anything?" I shout to Jasper.

"Nothing?" he calls back over the din of revving engines and a solitary police siren.

As Sam is turning the bike around to set off once again, Tyler comes roaring up and I notice Jake isn't on the back of his scooter anymore.

"Jake thinks he spotted James and another guy in the industrial estate," Tyler shouts. "He's following them at a distance and needs some back-up."

Tyler spins his scooter around and heads back the way he came. Sam revs his engine and we're soon following Tyler's lead along with about thirty other motorbikes and scooters. We're now travelling through a part of the estate that is totally deserted and not in a direct line to the shops, which surprises me as I presumed Bella would make a bee-line for the coffee shop. We've only been moving for about a minute when Tyler puts his arm up to indicate he's pulling over. The pack comes to a halt behind him and I jump off and run over to him.

"Why are we stopping?" I ask.

"Because this is roughly where we saw the guy that fitted James's description. He was coming out of one of these alleyways with another guy. They were on a bike but they didn't see us watching. There's some old industrial units around here that back onto the railway and she could be hiding in any of them. If we roar up in a pack, the noise of the bikes might freak him out and he could do Bella some damage if he's already got her. Best to go on foot."

I take my jacket off and sling it over Sam's handlebars then follow Tyler along the street. The pack are behind us, but they roll their bikes silently along the quiet road. Occasionally a solitary car or lorry would pass us and the driver would give us a strange look which was only to be expected. It's not every day you see Mods _and_ Rockers wandering the streets together.

My heart is pounding in my chest as we approach the first abandoned factory. As we creep closer, I can just see the back wheel of a motorbike protruding from a gap between the buildings. I turn towards Sam meaning to point out to him what I've spotted, but before I have a chance to speak, I hear a high-pitched scream and then another more anguished wail coming from somewhere around us.

At that precise moment I knew we'd found what we were looking for, but that pitiful sound meant we were probably too late and my blood ran cold.

* * *

 **Bella**

I curl myself into a ball and start praying. I can hear heavy footsteps coming down the alleyway; their thuds echoing against the walls of the stone and brick buildings either side which makes them sound even more terrifying. Then James starts shouting.

"I know you're in here, bitch," he bellows then laughs evilly. "I'll soon find you and then the fun'll start."

I clamp my hand over my mouth to stop myself from whimpering then close my eyes tightly, hoping against hope that he'll by-pass my cardboard shelter and just concentrate his search in the abandoned buildings that surround me.

Closing my eyes only makes my ears more acutely aware of my surroundings. I can hear police sirens in the distance and the occasional car or motorbike passing the top of the alleyway, but nothing that will give me any real hope of rescue.

The footsteps are coming closer and then they stop dead.

"Go after him!" James yells and I hear running feet getting fainter with every second. I catch my breath as there's a chance James and the other man have been spotted so help could be on its way.

"It's just you and me now," James laughs, "but you're tiny, Isabella Swan, no match for a strong man like me. It'll make a change for you to have a real man fucking you; not some upper-class wimp who hasn't got a clue what he's doing. You'll be begging for more when I'm finished with you."

I can hear him moving around the yard, kicking pieces of junk out the way and overturning anything that could potentially hide a terrified human. Every crash is accompanied by a curse word and I can tell he's getting more and more agitated as time goes by. I'm guessing he knows his window of opportunity is limited and he's determined to get his revenge on me and Edward before he's discovered. In my mind this makes him even more dangerous than before and I'm shaking in fear.

After a couple of minutes the other guy comes running back down the alleyway shouting, "I got him, Jimbo. Let's just say he's sleeping peacefully and won't bother us anymore."

James laughs evilly and sets about ransacking the yard again.

"I know she's in here," he spits. "She couldn't have got any further than the first alley or this one. There's nowhere else she can hide so I'm not leaving 'til we've found her. She's all mine now."

I can tell he's on the other side of the yard by now as his cursing is getting fainter. I'm still listening out for any chance of help when I hear the sound of scooters or motorbikes in the distance and then they stop abruptly. It's obvious James hasn't heard them as he's still cursing but he's definitely coming closer to me and I know it's only a matter of time before he turns his attention to the boxes.

As I curl up even tighter than before to make myself as small as possible, I feel something move under the cardboard and I freeze. I open my eyes to see what it is just as a huge rat runs past my face. I can't help my reaction which is instinctive.

I fling my hands up to cover my eyes which makes the boxes piled on top of me shift noisily. As daylight appears above me I hear the sound of running feet coming towards my hiding place, and I know from the triumphant shouts and yells from James and the man who's with him that I've been discovered.

I curl into a ball and pray and pray. My eyes are tightly shut as I can't bear to see the face of the man from my nightmares again and I clamp my arms around my body in a futile attempt to protect myself as I pray for someone to help me. But this time my prayers haven't been answered like before and Edward isn't here to rescue me.

As the sound of James' heavy boots stop right in front of me, I know that in the next few seconds I'll be dragged from my hiding place into the terrible light of day to endure all the horrors that are awaiting me.

* * *

 **We all know that Edward and the combined pack of Mods and Rockers are not far away, but will they get to Bella in time before James has a chance to exact his revenge?**

FYI

This part of the East End was one of the last areas of London to be rebuilt after the war. It was heavily bombarded by the Luftwaffe because of the proximity of the Docks, and much of the land wasn't redeveloped for decades. Since the introduction of container ships, London has ceased to be an important Port with most of the business moving to places like Harwich and Tilbury. The old docks have been redeveloped and are now some of the most expensive pieces of land in the Capital. Canary Wharf being a prime example. The place where Bella is hiding is where Victorian workshops and factories that used to supply the London Docks were situated.

There is a famous quote that the Battle of Waterloo was won on the **'Playing Fields of Eton'**. No-one is 100% sure who originally thought up this quote, even though some people credit it to George Orwell, but what I believe it means is that so many British leaders, both political and military, went to Eton, and they learned the skills of team work and strategy whilst playing sports or taking part in the military exercises on their playing fields. (By the way, Churchill went to Harrow, so not all great leaders went to Eton).

Joan x (Sorry again about the cliffy) x


	36. Chapter 36

**MODS & ROCKERS - CHAPTER 35**

 **Bella**

The pile of boxes that have been my refuge are torn away one by one and I scream in terror as cool air hits my face. James and the other guy grab hold of my arms and haul me to my feet then James slaps me hard across my left cheek. One of the metal rings on his dirt encrusted fingers catches my lip and I instantly taste blood in my mouth which makes me feel sick.

"The fun starts now, little lady," he sneers and I recoil from him when I smell his breath.

He grabs hold of my face and squeezes my cheeks, digging his long fingernails into my skin. I'm expecting him to lick me across my mouth like before, but he just stares into my eyes as though he's soaking up every bit of terror in my expressions. Then he smiles, evilly, and I notice his yellow and brown teeth are like fangs and I want to vomit.

"I hope for your sake your skinny prince hasn't had you yet," he hisses. "Fucking a virgin is always a bonus for me, Isabella, and I get _very angry_ when I'm disappointed, and I was _very_ angry and _very_ disappointed when you ran away from me in Brighton.

He takes his hand off my face and starts tearing at the buttons on my coat as he speaks. "I was looking forward to screwing a Mod after the fight, and such a _pretty_ one for a change. I always like to end the day with a fuck, especially after knifing some of your poncey friends."

"You're evil," I spit at him and he throws his head back and laughs. Then he grabs hold of my ponytail and lets my hair slide through his fingers while licking his lips as though he's anticipating what he's going to do to me.

"You've no idea how evil I can be, Isabella," he says in a low voice which is even more sinister, and then he leans towards me and whispers in my ear, as if he wants what he says to me to be a special secret between the two of us.

"Delayed gratification means you're going to be fucked doubly hard as a punishment for making me wait. And now I've learned you're Edward Cullen's girlfriend, you're _really_ going to suffer for that, because I want to see the pain in his face when I tell him in glorious detail what I've done to you, before I kill him that is."

I know it's futile as the chances of anyone hearing me are practically zero, but I scream at the top of my voice until James punches me in the stomach then slaps me again. All the air is knocked from me but I try screaming again but it comes out more like a pathetic wail.

"You make another fucking noise and I'll kill you now," he threatens. "No-one's coming to rescue you this time. You're all alone with me and Donny," he mocks, and then he tears at my blouse. I lash out with my feet again but he jumps out the way.

As he slaps me again, this time much harder, I feel Donny relaxing his grip on me for a second and then I hear him gasp.

"Fuck it, Jimbo, they've found us," he hisses, and my hopes soar for a brief moment even though I don't know who or what Donny has seen. James reaches inside his jacket and pulls out the flick-knife I've seen before. The lethal blade springs from its handle and he holds it against my throat so I can feel the cold metal pressing against my neck. Donny lets go of me and jumps away, but James grabs my ponytail with his free hand, pulling me towards him so my shoulders are touching his chest then he yanks my head backwards so I'm staring up at the sky. I still can't see what Donny has seen as my back is to the road, but I can tell from the barrage of shouts and yells that a crowd of people are running towards us.

"Stay back or I'll slit her throat," James screams as he turns so he's now facing whoever's coming towards us. The shouting and the noise of feet stop abruptly and all I can hear then is a low murmur.

I feel the razor sharp edge of the knife scraping against my skin and I don't dare to struggle in case his hand slips. I'm certain James is crazy enough to use the knife on me rather than lose face, and I'm praying that whoever is there doesn't antagonise him any further.

"Move!" he yells at me, and he kicks my ankles from behind and forces me to start walking but my knees are shaking and my back is aching due to the unnatural position he's holding me in. I can only shuffle my way forward in small steps but that isn't good enough for him.

"Move faster!" he hisses as the knife nicks my skin which makes me cry out in fear. I can feel a trickle of blood sliding down my neck so I try to speed up but it's impossible.

I can sense the presence of whoever it is in front of me, but as we move forward they are backing away. The crowd is mainly silent apart from the noise of their feet and hushed whispers, and I pray Edward is among them, even though I know there isn't any possibility he could be. There's no way anyone from the paper could have got him here so quickly, even if they knew he was part of my world. I just want to see him once more before I die so I can tell him how much I love him and that I'm sorry I can't be with him for the rest of his life. Then I remember my bag is still under the boxes so hopefully he'll get my message and this gives me some comfort.

I can tell by the change in the air and the noise of distant traffic that we are getting closer to the main road. I can hear police sirens and more scooters and motorbikes in the surrounding area but I can't tell how close they are. Considering the situation I'm in, I actually feel quite calm, almost as though I've accepted the inevitable and I know this will be over soon, for good or ill. As I stumble on the uneven ground, I'm wondering how James is planning to get me away from the scene as he's probably assumed I won't cooperate on the back of a motorbike. I'd rather throw myself in the path of on-coming traffic and get it over with quickly than go with him, so he has to have some sort of vehicle parked nearby other than his motorbike which I heard earlier.

James is still gripping my hair and I can feel the roots being tugged away from my scalp. He's tightly-twisting my ponytail around in his hand which is agony and I'm starting to feel light-headed and sick. As we reach the main road, he screams at the crowd to get further away and then he starts walking backwards, dragging me with him.

"Donny!" he yells angrily. "Go get your van. They won't touch you while I've got a knife to her throat."

There's a deathly silence for a few seconds then Donny drops his bombshell.

"You're on your own, Jimbo," I hear Donny reply and there's a sharp intake of breath from the crowd as I sense that Donny is moving further away from him. "I'm not a kidnapper or a rapist," he shouts for the crowd's benefit. "This has gone much too far," he adds, and a few seconds later I hear the sounds of a scuffle.

"I'm not fighting you guys," Donny yells as he's being overpowered. "I'm giving myself up to the police. This was all Jimbo's idea; he's a psycho."

And then my prayers are answered and I hear Edward shouting above all the others.

"Do you understand what he said, James? There's no way out of this for you now. You're not getting away with this whatever happens. Let go of Bella and throw away your knife and I promise we won't touch you. The police are here and will deal with you fairly, but if you hurt her in any way, I'll kill you myself."

"Yeah, me too," I hear someone else shout.

"I _definitely_ will," another voice yells, which I'm sure is Johnson's, and then the whole crowd joins in to shout threats at James and his grip on my hair gets even tighter.

"We'll get you, you bastard"; "You're finished, creep"; "I'll chop you into little pieces", and other such violent promises are being yelled as James drags me further back. I almost over-balance and the knife nicks my neck again.

"Get away from me or I'll kill her!" James screams and the crowd goes deathly quiet again, and it's as though the whole of East London is holding its breath.

James tugs my head again and I feel the knife sliding across my neck. His hand is trembling either from fear or rage I can't tell, but I have the horrible feeling he's contemplating killing me now. One slice of the blade across my throat and no doctor would be able to save me, so it's up to me to do something he's not anticipating. I know I'll get only one opportunity to surprise him and it has to be now. I take a deep breath and take what is probably the bravest decision of my life.

"I love you, Edward," I call out, then after throwing my arms up to create some force, I hurl myself into his chest with as much energy as I can muster and at the same time I spin myself away from the knife, loosening his tight grip on my hair but cutting myself deeply below my ear in the process. I'm now facing him, so in the same movement I bring my knee up and catch him between his legs but he doesn't wince; he just stares at me evilly as his mouth curls into a smirk, and then he flings up the arm holding the knife and I know he's going to stab me.

I hear the crowd shriek and I prepare to feel the sting of the blade slicing into my back but I'm not going to make it easy for him. James is still hanging onto my ponytail with his left hand so I instantly spin around again while dropping to my knees so I'm facing away from him and dive to my left and downwards as he slashes wildly, but instead of stabbing my body, he misses the top of my head by a fraction of an inch and slices through my ponytail instead which comes away in his hand. I throw myself to the ground as he lunges at me again but I roll away just in time and the blade comes into contact with the pavement between my shoulder and my ear. I see sparks fly from the bent metal as it hits the ground and then the bone handle splits in his hand due to the force he's used.

As the crowd rushes forward, James turns on his heel and starts running for his life. I hear a roar of voices coming from the opposite direction and I realise then that another crowd has gathered at the far end of the street blocking any escape route. As my face hits the pavement again, I feel strong arms envelop me and I'm scooped up in one quick movement and Edward crushes me into his chest.

"Bella, I'm so sorry," he cries and tears are rolling down his cheeks. "This shouldn't have happened, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."

Shouts and screams and general mayhem surround Edward as he holds me in his arms. Through my own tears of relief, I see a blur of Mods and Rockers and policemen and scooters and motorbikes whirling around us, so I snuggle into Edward's blood-stained chest and close my eyes. I'm safe at last, and in the only place in the world I want to be.

"It wasn't your fault," I sigh as I try and stop myself bleeding all over his shirt. "It's over now and I'm safe, but I need a Doctor, Edward."

"Oh Jesus, yes!" he sobs and starts running down the street with me in his arms.

"Slow down!" I cry. "I'm not dying, I'm just bleeding everywhere."

As he carries me towards one of the waiting ambulances, we're stopped by a uniformed police officer and an angry looking man in a grey suit.

"We'll take her from here, Cullen," the suited man grunts forcefully. "Isabella Swan is a witness to a crime so the Police are in charge now."

"Over my dead body!" Edward replies just as forcefully. "I'm taking her to _that_ ambulance for treatment and _I'll_ decide when and where anybody speaks to her _and_ who interviews her, and it won't be you, Rogers. She's safe now thanks to me and my friends, but her attackers are probably being torn to shreds at this moment. While you still have a job, Detective, I suggest you make _that_ your priority or you may have a real death on your hands to deal with, and too many suspects for you to cope with."

Edward pushes past him and carries on walking towards an ambulance that has just opened its back doors ready for us. "My hero," I whisper in his ear before I'm surrounded by medics who help Edward climb into the ambulance with me. He's reluctant to let me go, insisting that the medics can check me over while he's still holding me, but in the end he gives in and lets me sit on the stretcher. Just as I'm obeying an instruction to lie flat so I can be examined, I hear a shriek from outside and I know without looking who's found me.

"Alice," I call out, even though I can't see her because the medic insists I lay completely still. "I'm okay. I'm just bleeding everywhere, nothing else," I shout. "Can you call mum and dad please? Poplar 1305. Tell them I'm alright and I'll be home soon."

I hear her shout "okay" and then the sound of a car bibbing its horn. I guess her dad or someone else has brought her up here as it doesn't sound like Jasper's campervan from here.

Edward is sitting on the opposite side of the ambulance staring at me wide-eyed. His shirt is covered with my blood and his face is ashen as though the shock of the situation has drained the life out of him. I reach out from the stretcher and take his hand which is trembling.

"You rescued me again, Edward. You've nothing to be sorry for."

Edward shakes his head in denial then he raises my hand and brings it to his lips to kiss.

"I can't protect you if you're not with me all the time, Bella. We're meant to be together, and I can't contemplate living without you now. Will you marry me, Isabella Swan, as soon as I can arrange it?"

I stare at him in shock and then I smile as a recent memory comes back to me.

"So lying in an ambulance with both of us covered in blood is a more romantic place to propose than a garden wall outside the Rose and Crown, is it?"

Edward chuckles and shakes his head as he remembers his previous promise.

"I can think of better places to be honest, but this is as good a place as any. I told your dad on the phone less than half an hour ago that I was never going to let you out of my sight again, and I can't do that if you're not with me every day. Will you marry me tomorrow, or next week at the latest?"

"Of course I will, Edward, if you're really serious."

"I'm deadly serious, Bella. I should've asked you to be my girlfriend the first day I laid eyes on you. I've wasted too much time and too many opportunities for us to be together. That stops right now. Life is short, and I'm not going to waste another moment of it worrying about what other people think. We're meant for each other and I'm not letting you go."

The grinning ambulance man is trying to staunch the wound on my neck as all this is going on while his assistant is trying to take my blood pressure. I imagine it's off the scale by now because it's not every day you nearly have your throat cut and get proposed to by the most wonderful man in the world. I know I'm only eighteen, but I've come so close to death in the last hour that I wasn't going to pass on any opportunity to be happy.

And my happiness was embodied in a man called Edward Cullen.

* * *

 **Edward**

I know I'm probably suffering from shock, but my proposal isn't a spur of the moment decision. From the second I knew Bella was in danger I vowed if we came through this she would never leave my side again. I don't know how I'm going to get this past her parents, but she's coming home with me tonight; either that or I'm moving in with her.

A doctor has arrived and has managed to stop the bleeding and is now examining the gash under her ear to see if it needs stitching. The cuts on her throat are just deep scratches which should heal quickly but the wound under her ear looks more serious. He takes the decision she needs to go to the hospital for a tetanus injection and stiches, so the driver jumps out and starts to close the ambulance's doors.

Before the first door is secured, I hear a deep, authoritative voice shout, "Hold on there," and the door swings open again to reveal a tall, distinguished looking man in a police officer's uniform, and it's obvious by the amount of braiding on his cap and sleeves that he's a big deal.

"Edward Cullen," he barks.

"Yes, that's me," I answer defensively as I don't know at this stage whether he's come to arrest me for obstructing justice, or some other trumped-up charge like calling a detective a fucking imbecile in front of his colleagues.

"I'm Chief Superintendent Dixon from Scotland Yard," he declares, as though he's used to receiving a fanfare whenever he announces his name and title. "Your father's been in touch with Sir Joseph and has asked me to intervene. Your boss called Lord Cullen to inform him what had occurred. Lord Cullen then called the Advertiser where he heard that Miss Swan had been put in unnecessary jeopardy through the misguided actions of the police, for which I apologise to both of you. Lord Cullen then called Sir Joseph directly who put me in charge of the investigation."

I grunt at that statement because I want more than just an apology from the police; I want Rogers' head on the block as a minimum. Dixon continues with the speech he's delivering in a monotone voice like he was reading a charge sheet in court.

"I have therefore taken over the investigation from Detective Rogers and my department will be in touch once Miss Swan has been treated. You'll be relieved to hear that James Pearce and his accomplice are in police custody, but both will need treatment in hospital as they sustained substantial injuries during their citizens' arrests. We will of course ensure Miss Swan is treated at a different hospital."

Bella raises her head from the stretcher where she's been lying quietly listening to the Superintendent's monologue, but the serene look on her face turns to one of pure anger as his words sink in. She gently pushes the medic away and leans up on one elbow then points her finger accusingly at the Chief Superintendent.

"Are you telling me the police caused all this? I've been wondering how James found out where I worked. I could've died just now."

Dixon coughs and looks embarrassed for a brief second but then goes into defensive-mode.

"The story was inadvertently released to the press too early, and before Detective Rogers had the opportunity to inform you that he was preparing to trap James Pearce by luring him to your place of work. Rogers' plan was to ambush him when he showed up."

I'm tempted to interrupt and say that's no excuse but I let Dixon continue.

"Unfortunately for Pearce and his accomplice, they both have come off much worse than if they'd just been apprehended by Rogers. I understand Pearce was unconscious when the police got to him as he'd been beaten to a pulp before the police could intervene and the other man is in not much better condition either. I've also been informed that every Mod or Rocker involved in their capture is not denying they 'put the boot in' so to speak. However there's no point in charging any of them as there isn't a jury in the land that would convict them. We can close the book on James Pearce now and it's fortunate you've escaped with just a minor injury, Miss Swan."

"Minor injury!" Bella exclaims and sits up completely. "Are you kidding me?" she angrily yells at him as she swings her legs off the stretcher. I grab hold of her arm as by the look on her face, she's ready to launch herself at the Superintendent and beat him to a pulp as well. Instead _my_ feisty Bella verbally tears this senior policeman to shreds.

"I'll be having nightmares for the rest of my life about this. I've been sexually assaulted, terrorized, slashed with a knife, punched, slapped, threatened with rape, threatened with death, my hair has been cut off and you consider that adds up to a minor injury?"

The Superintendent opens his mouth to respond but Bella hasn't finished with him yet.

"What about the anguish you've put Edward and my family and friends through? What about Keith in my office? Edward tells me _he_ was beaten to a pulp hanging on to Donny which gave me time to escape and hide. And what about the other guy Donny attacked before I was rescued, _by Edward and his friends?_ Donny told James he was 'sleeping'. How is he doing? I bet his injuries aren't minor."

"What other guy?" the Superintendent replied.

"Holy Shit!" I exclaim. "Jake! We forgot about Jake!"

I jump from the ambulance and literally push past the shocked Superintendent so I'm out on the street. There were now even more Mods, Rockers and Police in the area plus some men and women who are obviously reporters and photographers milling around. Basically it's a scene of utter chaos. I grab hold of the nearest policeman and ask him to blow his whistle several times, then climb on top of a low wall and shout out to get everyone's attention.

"Quiet everyone…...has anyone seen Jake?" I yell at the top of my voice.

No-one responds and there's a hushed silence. I spot Tyler with a shocked look on his face as even he has forgotten about Jake because of the general excitement and everything else that's been going on in the last fifteen minutes or so.

"Bella says the other guy attacked him when she was hiding. He could be lying injured near to where Bella was found and he's probably unconscious. We've got to go and look for him."

Bella is on her feet by now and is trying to fight off the medic who is attempting to push her back in the ambulance.

"I'm not going anywhere until I know Jake's safe," she hisses in an 'I'm not taking shit from anyone' tone of voice. I grin at her because this is the Bella I fell in love with, and not only that, I've just realised she's probably the only woman on earth, other than my sister, who'll be able to compete in a verbal battle against my mother.

"Stop smirking and find my friend," she yells at me which brings me back down to earth with a crash.

"Okay boss," I reply and start running along the street with the rest of the crowd towards the area where James was captured.

I would guess there were more than a hundred people in the street by now and it reminded me of the scene on Brighton beach where the Mods were running towards the Rockers, but this time the Mods _and_ Rockers were all going in the same direction and with a sole purpose.

The first group peels off and runs down the first alleyway, then the next group disappears down the alleyway where Bella was found. I was sure Jake wouldn't be lying there as Bella would have heard them fighting, so I carry on running to the next gap between the derelict buildings which is a bit further along from where James was overpowered. Everyone is shouting Jake's name as we start looking behind fences and walls but I don't bother. If he's unconscious, he won't be able to hear anything.

We've only been searching for about five minutes when I hear one of the guys yelling, "Over here!" I run towards him and look at where he's pointing. He's spotted traces of blood splattered on the external wall of one of the factory-type buildings and a trail of blood droplets are leading to a dilapidated hut that looks as though it had once been a workshop. The wooden doors are smashed and hanging off their hinges, and nettles and ivy are growing through the cracks in the concrete floor. From what I can see from outside, it's full of rusting machinery and smashed wooden crates and I can imagine armies of massive spiders are living in there, but I have to put that nightmare to the back of my mind and grow some balls, even though I'm terrified of anything with more than four legs.

"Someone get an ambulance down here," I shout as I run towards the hut. One of the guys races back to the main road while the rest of us tear at the already shattered wooden doors to get more light into the building as it's pitch dark at the back of the cavernous space.

I clamber over discarded pieces of metal and broken work-benches and spot Jake lying face down amongst the debris only a few feet inside. The back of his head is covered in matted blood and I fear the worst as he shows no signs of life. His eyes are closed and what I can see of his face is colourless. Even though I've never seen a dead body before, Jake looks very dead to me and I feel sick.

Word has got out that Jake has been found and the search party is converging on the hut and everyone goes quiet. I gingerly approach his body and crouch down next to him. I know how to find a pulse as I was taught how to do this as a cub scout, but I've never had to do it in a real life and death situation before. I search for a pulse on his wrist and then his neck but feel nothing, however his body is still warm to the touch so I try again on his other wrist and this time I pick up a slow heartbeat.

"He's alive!" I announce to the hushed crowd who are now filling the yard and there's an audible sigh of relief. As I stand up, the welcome sound of an approaching ambulance allows me to hope that Jake will be okay, but I definitely owe this guy an apology for accusing him of being a juvenile. Jake had been braver than any of us today. Following men you know to be armed takes some guts, and his intervention probably saved Bella from being more seriously assaulted. He's the real hero of the day.

After warning the medics that Jake is still recovering from a previous head injury, I leave the hut when the ambulance crew takes over and wander back with the others to where Bella is waiting for me. Word has already got back to her that Jake is alive but in a very bad way and she's being comforted by Alice and Jasper. As I thank everyone around me for helping, a Mod who I don't recognise comes over to me and hands over Bella's bag.

"I found it in some cardboard boxes when we were searching for Jake," he tells me. "I presume it's your girl's."

I thank him for bringing it back and tuck it under my arm as I climb into the ambulance. Sam comes up then and throws me my jacket and I ask him to thank everyone from me and Bella for coming when we needed them. If the Mods and Rockers hadn't answered the call, James would... no I can't even think of a scenario like that at the moment.

Bella lies down again as the doors close and the driver starts the engine and turns on the siren. Bella's injury isn't serious, but I'm glad the ambulance isn't going to waste any time getting her to the hospital. I want her treated quickly and then to get her home with me as soon as possible.

I can hear all the scooters and motorbikes revving up outside, then the siren on Jake's ambulance as it passes us. As our ambulance moves off there's a roar of bike engines, and as we get underway the noise from the bikes doesn't dissipate like I was expecting it to, but carries on following us. I presumed all the Mods and Rockers would immediately head home or go back to work, or return from wherever they'd come from, but the noise follows us, and carries on following us as we make our way towards one of the Accident departments in central London.

I stand up and peer through the ambulance's tiny back window to see what's going on and witness the most incredible sight. The road behind us is filled with a combined pack of Mods and Rockers on their scooters and motorbikes, and it's obvious to me they've decided, en masse, to give Jake and Bella an escort to the hospital. There are very few events in life that move me to tears, but seeing sworn enemies coming together like this brings a lump to my throat and I'm having difficulty holding it together.

"It's quite a sight, mate," the ambulance driver calls out as though he's guessed what I'm thinking. "I've never seen anything like it in my life. I thought Mods and Rockers weren't the best of friends? Your girl and that guy must be something special."

I smile when he says that and I sit down while I think about his comment. Yes, Bella is something special, and now Jake is something _extraordinarily_ special for being so brave when the chips were down.

"We're all special," I respond, "but Bella and Jake are Mods, which make them extra-special. I'm a Rocker with a Mod girlfriend, which makes me extra-special too I suppose. The guys following us are our extended family and they came when we called for help because for once we had a common enemy, and we had to work as a team to defeat him, which we did. Society runs us down at every opportunity; perhaps they'll see us in a different light now."

The driver chuckles at my response then glances in his wing mirror and screws his face up.

"There's some guy on a really big motorbike waving madly at us," he says, then adds, "What the hell is he doing?"

I jump to my feet again and look out the window and spot Emmett at the front of the pack. He must have run every traffic light and broken every speeding law in the book to get here from North London so quickly but I'm glad he's here. This is an occasion I could never have described to him so I'm thrilled he can be part of it. I wave back at him and he acknowledges he's seen me so I sit down again and take Bella's hand.

She looks sleepy now and I guess she must be exhausted emotionally as well as physically. I just want to take her home with me and curl up with her in my bed, not for sex or anything like that. I just need to hold her and comfort her, and protect her from the awful shit that pervades our society. Living on a desert island is becoming more and more attractive by the second.

The ambulance pulls up in front of the hospital and the doors are opened by a team of medics who have been waiting for Bella and Jake. Emmett has totally disregarded the parking restrictions in the ambulance bays and has pulled up behind us, but who's going to argue with a six foot three inch twenty-stone muscular guy wearing leathers?

He walks over to me and gives me a crushingly manly hug.

"You okay, mate?" he asks sounding very English for a change as he normally refers to me as 'dude'.

"I'm okay, and Bella will be fine when she's had some stiches," I reply, "but that guy's in a bad way."

We watch in silence as Jake is carried out the ambulance on a stretcher and placed carefully onto a trolley then rushed into the Accident Department.

"I'll pray for him," Emmett says and before I have a chance to react I hear Bella saying, "thank you."

Bella insists on walking into the Accident Department even though a wheelchair was offered. I tell Emmett to go off with the pack and have fun, and I later heard that the Mods and Rockers did a celebratory tour of London together, once they'd learned that Jake was going to be okay. I was sorry I couldn't have been part of it, but there were plenty of pictures in the newspapers and magazines the next day, with lots of speculation on whether the strife between Mods and Rockers was finally over.

I seriously doubted that.

When we finally get into the Accident Department, Bella's family are there waiting for us as they'd been brought here in a police car. Renee is sobbing and Charlie is trying to be stoic, but there are tears in his eyes as he hugs Bella. When the nurses lead her away to be treated, we find some seats in the busy waiting area and I tell her parents and Mike everything that has happened to us since the first day I saw her from my office window, starting with how I'd followed her to Lyons to see her face, then when I rescued her from the arse who tipped his drink all over her, when I saw her in the Coach and Horses on the way back from Clacton, (that raised a few eyebrows), our lunchtime walks together, my argument with James in the Ace Café, how Emmett and I had rescued her in Brighton and finally what had just happened to her and Jake. I also told them I was in love with her and that I'd proposed to her in the ambulance. I then apologised to Charlie that I hadn't asked his permission first.

"I don't want any secrets between us," I explain. "I'm going to be part of your family now and Bella's going to be part of mine. We're from two ends of the social spectrum, but it makes absolutely no difference to me and I'm sure my family won't have any problem with it either when they get to meet her. I hope you're okay about it too?"

Renee's mouth has dropped open and Charlie is looking slightly shell-shocked.

"So you really are Lord Cullen's son?" he asks. "That means…."

"Yes, that means one day Bella will be Lady Isabella Cullen, if she wants to be that is. Using a title isn't mandatory by the way so she can remain Mrs Cullen if that's what she wants, but Bella is more of a 'Lady' than most of the real Ladies who are entitled to use that moniker by birth to be honest."

"Are you going to have a Mod and Rocker wedding?" Mike pipes up. "That would be awesome."

"No Mike," I assure him. "I might be a bit of a rebel as far as my family's concerned, but I'm definitely a traditionalist. It'll be white lace and morning suits, and don't panic Charlie, I'm paying!"

While we're waiting for Bella to get stitched, another detective and the same woman police officer who interviewed Bella two days ago, came over to where we're sitting to inform me they'll need to take statements from both of us, but because of the trauma Bella has suffered they would leave speaking to her for a few days. They said they already had enough witnesses and evidence to charge James and Donny with offences serious enough to allow the police to remand both of them in custody once they'd been released from hospital, which in James' case would be in a few week's time because of his injuries. I was relieved at this, as I wasn't in a rational state of mind to give a statement at the moment as I was still boiling with rage at the situation Rogers had put Bella in, whether it was intentional or not.

After about an hour's wait, a nurse came out of the treatment area to tell us Bella would be ready to leave shortly. Renee hands over a bag of clean clothes she'd brought with her but the nurse says she can go back with her and help her daughter to get dressed.

Charlie says he's going to find the gents loo while Mike goes to the phone box to call Alice's house as her dad had offered to pick us up and take us back to Bella's when we were ready. While I'm sitting on my own, I contemplate how I'm going to tell Renee and Charlie that Bella is going to live with me from now on. I've already decided that if Charlie refuses to allow it, I'm definitely taking her to Gretna Green tomorrow morning and we can have the white wedding as soon as it can be arranged.

I know Bella's upset about her hair, so I open her bag to see whether her brush is in there as her mother forgot to bring one with her. The first thing I spot is a folded piece of paper with my name on it, so I pick it up and realise straight away that Bella wrote this while she was hiding from James. I know this is going to be emotional but I read it anyway.

 _Dear Edward,_

I read the contents of the letter too quickly the first time so have to read it again, and then I break down. On top of telling me how much she loved me, she had forgiven me for putting her in this situation and told me to carry on living; in other words not to do anything stupid if her own life had come to an end. She also wanted me to use my time to fight injustice which was so important to her.

I could so easily have lost her again, and the reality of how close we'd come to being separated forever finally hits me and my meltdown is worse than when we were in bed together. I'd been running on adrenalin since the moment I scooped her off the pavement and I'd put on a show of being in control all the time, but the image of James holding a knife to her throat and now reading this letter is too much. Tears start pouring down my cheeks and I try to stem the flow by crushing my knuckles into my eyes but it's no use. I bend double to hide my face, as I'm aware that people around me are staring at me, and it isn't until I sense Bella standing in front of me with her parents that I start to control myself.

Bella crouches down and puts her arms around my neck and holds me until I've calmed down. She takes the letter from my hand which is soaking wet by now then finds some tissues in her bag and helps me wipe my face.

"Are you okay?" she whispers.

I nod my head and try to stand but she makes me stay seated and takes hold of my hand.

"Mum, dad," she announces. "I'm staying at Edward's tonight. I'm not having any arguments about it; I need him and he needs me. We're going to be married soon anyway so don't fuss."

"Isabella!" Charlie responds in a stern voice.

"Oh, put a sock in it, Charlie," Renee interrupts. "I had no right to wear white on our wedding day, so don't you come all uppity with our daughter. She's a grown woman now, even though she'll always be your little girl. That's fine Bella; you need to be with your man."

Charlie's face goes bright red and Mike howls in protest.

"Mum, dad, it's been difficult for me to accept the fact that you guys _ever_ had sex, never mind before you got married. I can't get that image out of my head now."

"There was a war on, son," Charlie grunts and then he grins and extends his hand to me.

"Welcome to the family, Edward," he says. "You look after my little…..my daughter, okay?"

"Yes Sir," I reply feeling mightily relieved that Gretna Green isn't going to be necessary.

"Sir," Charlie repeats and laughs. "Nobody has ever called me 'Sir' before."

We walk out of the Accident Department into a bright and warm evening. Alice's father has parked his car across the road in front of Jasper's campervan where I can see Alice waving madly from the front seat. He'd driven Jasper and Alice from the Advertiser to Park Lane while we were in A&E and then drivers and vehicles had come straight back to the hospital, which meant all of us had a lift home.

Bella kisses her parents and her brother goodbye and waves them off then we stroll over to the van where Jasper and Alice are waiting for us.

Before we climb in, I pull Bella into an embrace and it's strange not being able to stroke her long hair. It's just below jaw-length now; a bit lop-sided and longer at the front than the back, a bit like Cilla Black's, but there's still enough of it left for me to bury my face in, which is what I do, being careful to choose the side without the neck bandage.

"You can be a real Mod now," I joke as I hug her. "Alice has been trying to get you to have this cut for ages, hasn't she?"

"Hmmm, yes she has, but my hair grows really quickly, so don't panic," she replies. "I remember you telling me it was my long hair that first attracted you to me, which is why you followed me into Lyons. So am I in danger of being dumped now it's gone?"

"Well, I don't know, Bella; I'll have to think about that," I murmur but jokingly.

"Is that so?" she sort of hisses. "So what if I told you that when I first caught you ogling me in Lyons, I thought you were _very_ good looking, but that's all. But I honestly wasn't _really_ attracted to you until I saw you in the Coach and Horses in your skin-tight leather trousers and a very sexy jacket. This means if you're seriously proposing to spend the rest of your life with me, and you want me to be _extraordinarily_ happy during that time, then you'll totally understand what this girl will be wanting from her Rocker husband in return for growing her hair again."

"Is that so?" I say, repeating her threat and then I launch myself on her mouth, even though she has a cut on her lip.

The kiss starts frantically as our emotions are let loose. Both of us instinctively know we'd contemplated never being able to kiss each other again so this first connection is desperate. But then the kiss develops, and it becomes pure, unadulterated love as we melt into each other's arms. The world around us disappears in that moment and we could be on a tropical island, or at the South Pole, or in our farmer's field again, not leaning up against a campervan outside the Accident Department of a busy London hospital.

The kiss comes to an abrupt end when Jasper and Alice lean out of their respective windows and start slapping the sides of the van which makes us both jump.

"Enough of that, love-birds," Alice shrieks. "We're going out to celebrate!"

As I help Bella into the van and Jasper turns the ignition, Bella eye-rolls and shakes her head at me.

"Alice," I say kindly, "I don't think going out to celebrate is really appropriate given what's happened today."

"Who said anything about celebrating what's happened today? I've got another _great_ reason to celebrate."

"What?" Bella and I ask simultaneously.

Alice lets out an ear-splitting shriek and then announces to the world….

"I'M…

NOT…

PREGNANT!"

* * *

 **I suppose that is a cause for celebration (for some people), but I doubt whether they'll have the energy to whoop it up tonight after all that trauma.**

 **I hope this chapter wasn't too scary for you. Bella had a close shave (pun intended), but at least James has been taken care of. I could have killed him off, but I thought being pummelled to within an inch of his life by a load of Mods and Rockers was equally satisfying.**

I had planned this chapter right from the beginning. I wanted the Mods and Rockers to be drawn together for a common cause, so coming to the aid of a Mod with a Rocker boyfriend seemed the ideal solution. I hope you enjoyed it. There were plenty of incidences where Mods and Rockers did get together back then without beating each other senseless, but only the bad news stories were ever reported in the press. _'Mods and Rockers have a Jolly Good Time'_ is not the most riveting headline you have to admit! I was sorely tempted to let Edward and Bella have a Mod and Rocker wedding as well, but thought that was a bit obvious, but then ... hmmmm!

So Jake turned out to be a hero in the end. I have a few 'Team Jacob' readers reading this, so I hope you're happy now and will forgive me for calling him 'Jake the Jerk' throughout the story. Jake does get the rough end of fanfiction more often than not, so I gave him a HEA just to be fair because I'm nice like that.

The final chapter before the Epilogue is a sort of epilogue in itself. I'll be jumping forward in time a little bit so you can read what happens to Edward and Bella, Jasper and Alice, Emmett and Rosie, and James and all the other characters. I hope you can hang on for that. There will be weddings of course.

 **In the meantime, is there anything I haven't covered in the story so far? Any loose ends I haven't tied up? I can think of one! (Ahem).**

No FYI's today - go and have a stiff drink instead!

Joan xx


	37. Chapter 37

**CHAPTER 36**

 **Ten months later - Saturday, 20th March 196 5**

* * *

 **Edward**

I'm trying to comfort Bella but her face is pale, her eyes are wide and staring and her lips are quivering. She's terrified, I know it, but there's nothing I can say or do to take her mind off the situation we're in. After the events of today when she was so happy, I'm mortified we're in this position and I hold her hands tightly as I whisper in her ear that everything will be okay. I try to sound convincing but I know I've failed, as her beautiful, trusting brown eyes are filling with tears. I'm not going to deny that I'm scared too but I've got to be strong for her.

It's at times like these you reflect on the choices you've made and the decisions you've taken which have brought us to where we are now. Today my thoughts have all been about what has happened to us in the last twelve months, as it's almost a year to the day since Bella entered my life. It was Monday, 23rd March, 1964, between ten-to and five-to nine. That was the exact moment I first laid eyes on Isabella Swan outside the Express building on Fleet Street and was instantly attracted to her beautiful long hair and the way she moved when she skipped lightly up the steps.

Looking back I know I was hooked from the word 'Go'. I tried to fight it, like a fish on a line, but it was hopeless. I don't recall the exact second when affection and physical attraction turned into what I'm sure will be everlasting love, but it was probably when we were in the farmer's field hiding from James. I knew then without doubt I'd found the love of my life, and nothing other than death was going to separate us.

I shudder when I recollect the terror of being chased and the few minutes when James suspected we were hiding in the field, and then the awful half-hour or so a couple of weeks later when she was all alone, hiding from James in the alley, then the short few minutes he had her in his clutches. I could so easily have lost her for ever when James held his knife to her throat and I honestly don't know whether I would have survived the trauma. Once you've seen and touched heaven, nothing else will come close, so life would have been pointless for me and not worth living.

Bella has obviously felt my body tremble when I recall those hideous memories and now she looks even more petrified. I'm trying to stay calm for her sake, but I'd be a liar if I didn't admit to being fearful. I pull her towards me and kiss her forehead then brush away a tear that's rolling down her cheek. As I hold her in my arms I think of everything that has happened to us in the last twelve months. Most of those memories are absolutely wonderful, but it wasn't until January of this year we could really close the door on the events which had hung over us like a storm cloud and we could relax and actually start living again.

In the New Year, James was declared physically and mentally capable of standing trial at the Old Bailey and was found guilty of conspiracy to commit murder and rape, sexual assault, attempted kidnap, actual bodily harm, threatening behaviour and carrying an offensive weapon. After he was found guilty, it came to light he'd committed numerous other offences against women since leaving the army in 1962. Once his photograph appeared in the national newspapers after Bella was rescued, women he'd assaulted previously came forward and gave the police their stories, including a Mod girl he'd attacked in Clacton. All of them hadn't bothered reporting him as they didn't expect to be taken seriously by the police. Also, they had been too frightened to report him while he was still on the streets as he had threatened them with reprisals, which is what we'd already guessed was his modus operandi. Even though James was in custody and there was a likelihood he would serve a long sentence, none of these women were prepared to formally press charges to aid the prosecution case, as they were still concerned about the damage the publicity would do to their reputations if word got back to their communities.

James wasn't sentenced to a fixed term in prison. Instead he was detained 'At Her Majesty's Pleasure', which in legal terms meant he had been diagnosed as being criminally insane whilst on remand, therefore his sentence would be indefinite. It was also the reason why it took eight months to get him into court, as initially he was deemed unfit to stand trial because of his mental state. He was sent to Broadmoor, which is a special prison for criminals like him, and he would stay there until he was deemed fit to be released, which hopefully meant never. His accomplice, Donny, was given ten years for grievous bodily harm for attacking Jake and Keith, and for assaulting Bella, and for carrying an offensive weapon. The police are still looking for the other man who groped Bella in Brighton but as Bella couldn't give them a description, and James and Donny refused to name him, the chances of him being brought to trial are virtually nil. The Metropolitan Police disciplined Rogers for his negligent handling of the case and moved him to reduced duties in one of the outlying boroughs, which apparently he was livid about. I'd rather he'd been sacked, but until his mis-handling of Bella's case he'd had an exemplary career in the police force and an impeccable military service record, so I had to bite my lip and accept the Police's decision.

I was so proud of Bella as she stood in the witness stand giving evidence against James. She was calm and articulate when facing the defence counsel, even though she'd been a quivering wreck in the waiting room. When the Clerk asked her what she did for a living, I could see the pride on her face when she announced to the Court that she was a 'Journalist'. Both she and I knew she wouldn't have been taken seriously if she'd have just said 'typist'.

She had every right to call herself a Journalist now as her four-page pull-out feature had morphed into a full eight-page supplement just after Christmas, and consequently had quadrupled the circulation of the newspaper. At the beginning of February, she received a telephone call from America from a woman called Helen Gurley Brown who was revamping an old-fashioned magazine title called Cosmopolitan into a publication specifically aimed at liberated young females. One of this lady's London friends had been reading Bella's articles and had posted examples to New York where Helen was based. Bella had been covering the types of issues Cosmopolitan were planning to write about when it was due to be relaunched this coming September, so Helen wanted to meet with her. Alice nearly had heart failure when Bella told her the news. New York to Alice was the epitome of glamour (after Paris of course), and she was desperate to go there one day.

The other journalist in my new family, Mike, was now working for the Sunday Mirror. His story about Ronnie Kray and the Tory Peer had made the front page and was quite a scandal. He'd also fed the Mirror my story about the Tories planning to push through an amendment to the Employment Laws; his source being my contact in the Fabian Society (or the 'Fagin' Society Bella's mother occasionally called it in error). The Tories had no option but deny the allegation, which totally scuppered the Prime Minister's plans and threw a very bad light on the current administration. I'm not saying this information influenced the outcome of the election, but it certainly didn't do the Tories any favours. In October they lost convincingly to the Labour party so now we had a left-leaning government for the first time since 1945. The dock workers lived to fight another day, but even I could foresee radical changes coming to the industry and life becoming tougher in the future for the communities that relied on the docks for employment.

In July, Victoria was found guilty of Arson and sent to Holloway Women's Prison for eighteen months. Her father, the Earl, kicked up a hell of a stink, but the judge to his credit wasn't having any of it. Arson was a serious offence which in some circumstances carried a life sentence, and the judge told Victoria's father that if she appealed, she could risk serving her whole sentence with no chance of early parole if she wasn't prepared to admit she was guilty. The judge had already been lenient because it was her first offence and advised the Earl not to push it. I didn't take any pleasure seeing Victoria being led away by the prison guards, however I did enjoy seeing the look of fury on her face when she saw Bella sitting with my mother in the court. I noticed that Bella was taking every opportunity to flash her engagement ring whenever Victoria looked her way and I'm sure given the chance Bella would have shouted "Nah nah nah" at her as well. Childish I know, but very satisfying.

On the subject of rings, when Bella had physically recovered from her ordeal with James, in that her external wounds had almost completely healed, on Midsummer Night I took her for a walk to the top of Primrose Hill in North London where there's a fabulous view of the city, and proposed to her again. This time I had a diamond and sapphire engagement ring ready for her and I did the 'down on one knee thing' in full view of several tourists, some random locals walking their dogs and a tramp who wished us good luck from his park bench, who then toasted us with whatever was in a dubious looking bottle he'd whipped out from an inside pocket.

I was nervous when I took Bella to Cullen Manor for the first time as I wasn't just taking a 'girlfriend' home; I was taking _my_ _fiancée_. This was the first and only time my mother was lost for words in my presence when I introduced Bella to her as my future wife. Mum was still recovering from the shock of Rosie announcing her engagement to Emmett, but kudos to her, she didn't raise any objections to either of our choices.

Emmett had put mum and dad's minds at ease by telling them he planned to stay permanently in England, and coincidentally dad knew Emmett's mother from his university days. They had been at Oxford together but at different colleges, and had both taken part in a steaming argument about the arms trade at the Oxford Debating Society (which Emmett's mum had convincingly won he admitted). It's a very small world. Emmett discovered he could claim dual nationality because his mother was British and he would be entitled to permanent residency through marrying Rosie, so this solved the problem regarding his re-entry to the United States as he would be able to apply for a British passport.

Bella of course charmed the pants off my parents and I think my dad fell in love again. He took me to one side after dinner and told me he approved. "She's a winner, son," he said and then gave me an embarrassing wink while adjusting his trousers. I couldn't get that image out of my head for quite some time.

Of course my parents and Bella's parents had to meet eventually. I thought it best to choose neutral ground as I presumed Charlie would be enraged when he saw my parent's mansion. Bella's house was too cramped for any social gathering so we had a small engagement party for immediate family and very close friends at The Savoy. I needn't have worried whether they'd be civil to one another, as dad and Charlie got on like a house on fire and we could hardly separate them all evening. Renee and Esme hit it off as well, and Rosie and Alice promised to help Renee pick her outfits for the three family weddings due to happen sooner rather than later.

Emmett and Rosalie were married in our local church in Haslemere at the beginning of August and the reception was held in a marquee at Cullen Manor. During the speeches, Emmett announced he had just been accepted onto a post-graduate degree course to study Theology with a view to become an Anglican priest in the future. I nearly choked on my champagne when he said this as I couldn't imagine Rosie as a vicar's wife, but she was beaming from ear to ear so this obviously wasn't news to her. Visions of Emmett in a dog-collar, tearing around his parish on Bonnie, came into my head and I chuckled at the thought. At least this revelation diverted my sordid mind away from what was going to go down on Emmett and Rosie's wedding night.

Alice and Jasper were married in September in the registry office in Newquay in Cornwall. It was the most fun wedding I'd ever been to as the guests were ordered by Jasper to wear beach clothes to the ceremony. The only people formally dressed were the bride and groom and their parents, (there was no way Alice wasn't going to wear a wedding dress). Even Aunt Charlotte changed into beach wear for the reception and it was obvious to everyone there that Alistair and Charlotte were now a couple. Harry wasn't forgotten and we drank a toast to him wherever he was.

As well as buying a trendy apartment in London, Jasper had bought an awesome house just outside Newquay with a huge garden that led onto an isolated beach that couldn't be accessed by road. Luckily their wedding was on a warm, sunny day as we had the reception in the garden on long trestle tables protected by colourful umbrellas. After dinner, we ended up on the beach playing baseball rather than football as Emmett had been put in charge of the games. As dad was still not fully recovered, he was the umpire, (even though he didn't know the rules), then we watched the sun go down in the west before setting off loads of fireworks and getting very drunk. Mum allowed dad one glass of champagne for the toasts and one whiskey, but that was it.

Jasper bought the firm from Jenks in October and passed over the running of the place to me, Margaret, John and Simon. The first thing we did, apart from buying a top of the range coffee machine that is, was to hire another secretary to take the pressure off Margaret who had been working far more than the hours she was paid for. Bella leaned on me to interview Sue from the Express and I was happy to take her on as she had instantly gelled with Jane and Margaret at her interview.

Of course Bella was desperate to hear all the gossip from her old job and found out that Arrow, Alan Arrow, had been disciplined straight after she left and moved to the sports section which was traditionally men-only. His wife had also filed for divorce, probably because word had got back to her that her husband was a sexual predator. The bitch in Personnel kept her job by the skin of her teeth, but her power to hire and fire was taken away from her and she was forced to have all her decisions verified by senior management in future. After Bella's article about sexual harassment at work was published in the Advertiser and word got around that the Express was not the safest place for women employees, there was a root and branch review of how the female staff felt about working for the male staff, after which the men were informed, by letter, that any inappropriate behaviour would not be tolerated in future.

On the subject of money, dad informed me he had only pretended to change his Will, so I would definitely inherit a share of the estate with Rosie when he died. He admitted he actually _did_ write a new Will when he was in a fit of pique after I told him I was working for Jenks. He was angry I'd snubbed some of his oldest friends and wanted to teach me a lesson, but when I told him at the time that in my view I hadn't disrespected him or them, and I was still going to work for Jenks even if he disinherited me, he thought about it again and told his lawyer to scrap the new Will which left everything to Rosie. He told me he was proud of me, especially as the Civil Liberties movement in Europe was gaining respectability and more countries were electing to come under the umbrella of the European Convention on Human Rights.

Dad also promised me that when I was ready to buy a family home with Bella, he would chip in a chunk of money towards it which was nice to know. I was still living on my lawyer's salary, but unlike most of the guys of my age, I knew I would be mortgage-free for the rest of my life which I was grateful for. Bella and I were content living in the mews for the moment so there was no immediate rush to buy anything bigger. We did have one scare though when in the heat of the moment I forgot to use protection when we had sex, and we had nearly three weeks of agony waiting to find out if she was pregnant, but fortunately this came to nothing. Bella is now on The Pill, so using Johnnies is a thing of the past.

Our wedding today is still fresh in my mind. It couldn't have been held anywhere else but St Bride's Church, which was where Bella took me on our first walk. It was a couple of weeks too early for the tulips to be in full bloom, but the daffodils and snowdrops were out, so the garden was still pretty enough for photographs. We didn't have any residential ties to the Parish, which is normally the rule if you want to be married there, but I worked just inside the parish boundary. Also Bella was an accredited journalist according to the NUJ, and as St Bride's is the spiritual home of all London journalists, the kindly vicar relented and agreed to perform the ceremony. (I think dad slipping him a rather large donation towards the on-going restoration fund helped the decision, but we'll ignore that).

Rosie and Alice were bridesmaids and Emmett and Jasper shared the Best Man duties. I actually shed tears when I saw Bella enter the church with her father. She looked so beautiful in ivory silk and lace, and I'll never forget the way she looked at me as she approached the altar. She loved and trusted me to look after her, and now, less than eight hours later, she's in fear for her life again.

I manoeuvre my body so I can hold her close to me. She's still shaking and I can guess what's going through her mind right now. I kiss the top of her head and run my fingers through her baby-soft hair. It's grown about four inches since James sliced her ponytail off with his knife but Bella still hates it because having short hair reminds her of the attack every time she looks in the mirror. I know she's still suffering because of what happened as I catch her staring into space occasionally and then she shudders. She eventually sought medical advice and has been seeing a psychologist which has helped, but I don't think she'll ever get over the trauma completely.

A deafening noise fills the air and Bella shrieks and buries her head in my chest. I tell her again that everything will be okay but I know my words are meaningless in the circumstances.

* * *

 **Bella**

I should be feeling safe in Edward's arms but that's the last thing I feel at the moment. I didn't think I suffered from claustrophobia, but I obviously do. When the doors slammed shut on us and we were trapped, I knew there was no escape and no amount of calming words from Edward is helping the situation. I know I'm never going to get out of here alive.

At least mum and dad saw me at my best today, which will probably be their lasting memory of me. Up until about three hours ago, today had been the most wonderful day of my life. Dad looked amazing in his morning suit and top hat and I told him he would make a great 'toff'. We'd all been to see 'My Fair Lady' at the pictures a couple of months ago, so everyone was singing _'I'm Getting Married in the Morning'_ , while I was getting ready, and dad was doing a great impression of the actor, Stanley Holloway (Eliza's dad), and was strutting around like a peacock doing a mating dance. Mum looked gorgeous in a beautiful apricot silk suit with matching specially dyed shoes and bag and a lovely hat. Alice did her make-up and hair for her and she looked absolutely beautiful.

Alice had passed all her exams and was now working for Barbara Hulaniki. She was still one of Biba's 'faces' but was now involved with creating the make-up line that would go with the 'Biba Look'. She knew she didn't need to work because she'd just married a multi-millionaire, but she was loving every minute of being at the start of what she described as a 'revolution' in girls' fashions. We all went along to the opening of the first Biba shop in Kensington and met quite a few famous people there, including Cilla Black. Barbara's clothes were stunning and thankfully very reasonably priced as I wanted to buy everything.

Even though I'd been living with Edward for nearly ten months, I insisted on spending my last night as a single woman in mum and dad's house and getting ready for the wedding there. The whole street had turned out to see me off as word had got around that Bella Swan had bagged herself an Aristocrat. Edward's father had arranged for three Rolls Royce's to take me, my family and the bridesmaids to the church, but they weren't the only vehicles in the road when I stepped out of my front door. As soon as I appeared on the doorstep, a loud cheer went up and I got the shock of my life. The road was filled with all the Roxy Mods on their scooters, so we travelled into the City of London surrounded by about twenty cheering outriders, all tooting their horns and waving their scarves in the air. I would have cried, but Alice would've killed me for ruining my make-up.

When we arrived at the church, the narrow road outside was already filled with bikers from the Ace Cafe who then shuffled out the way to allow the cars to park. As I emerged from the car, they all revved their engines and cheered and the noise from them and the scooters was absolutely deafening, but absolutely wonderful as well.

Because of who Edward's family are, and also we'd been in the newspapers recently because of James' and Victoria's trials, there were photographers everywhere from all the national newspapers. So the second mingling of Mods and Rockers was recorded for posterity and some amazing pictures would probably be appearing in tomorrow's Sunday editions, which I'll probably never see as I know I'm going to die.

I try to think about nice things to take my mind off what's going on around me. After the incident with James, Edward was accepted by the Mods as a hero for rescuing me in Brighton and had gone back to The Roxy with me several times. When Jake was fully recovered, he made his peace with Edward and Edward had personally invited him and his parents to the wedding. Without Jake's bravery in following James and fighting Donny until he was knocked unconscious, I doubt whether I would have survived that day and I know Edward will forever be eternally grateful to him. Johnson and his wife and Keith and his wife had also been invited, as Keith's Judo prowess had given me the opportunity to escape in the first place.

Even though in my heart I was still a Mod, Edward was gradually turning me into a Rocker, and to take my mind off what was going on around me at the moment, I think back to my nineteenth birthday in September.

It was a Sunday and the weekend after Jasper and Alice had got married. I woke up to Edward bringing me breakfast in bed and he was wearing a pinny. When I say he was wearing a pinny, what I mean is he was only wearing a pinny, and it just about covered his bits. After he had fed me strawberries and cream and I'd drunk a glass of very fizzy champagne, he whipped his pinny off and we had noisy, rampant sex, following which we had more sex in the shower, then a bit more sex on the bed which we didn't get out of until about midday. Birthdays are awesome.

When I finally made it to the living room, there was a rather large flat box with a big red bow waiting for me on the floor, but before I was allowed to open it, Edward gave me a much smaller box and it was obvious it contained jewellery. When I opened it, there was a dainty gold charm bracelet inside, but before I had a chance to examine it, Edward picked it up and fastened it around my wrist then explained the charms one by one.

"The coffee bean represents Lyons and the moment I saw your face for the first time.

"The church is a reminder of our first walk together.

"The flower is for the tulips in the garden.

"The book is for your ambition to write about London and its secret passages which I'm going to ensure you do one day.

"The mortar board is for your ambition to go to University and get a degree.

"The motorbike is for when you first saw Eddie the Rocker.

"The set of scales represents Justice, which is important to both you and me.

"The heart represents my heart as you have it in your keeping.

"And the globe represents the fact that you mean the world to me."

I was crying by the time he got to the heart and he pulled me into his arms and told me how much he loved me. I knew I was the luckiest nineteen year-old in the whole world and I honestly didn't know how I could show him how much I loved him back.

After I recovered and had cleaned my face up with the sleeve of my dressing gown, Edward encouraged me to open the big box. It was quite heavy for its size and I was intrigued. I pulled at the bow and manhandled the lid off to find a layer of tissue paper covering what was obviously clothing. For a minute I thought he'd bought me a coat as the smell of real leather hit my nostrils almost instantly, but when I saw a glint of metal I knew damn well what was in there.

"You've bought me some riding leathers!" I exclaim and spin round to see Edward smirking at me. "Is this a present for me or for you?" I asked pointedly, hands on hips.

"Both," he answered truthfully. "I want you to ride with me, especially on warm, summer evenings when we can escape the city and get lost in the countryside. Maybe we could go out as a foursome with Emmett and Rosie as well."

"Hmmm!" I responded as I pulled out a very small leather jacket, even smaller trousers and a pair of riding boots.

"I know I'm slim, but do you actually think they'll fit me?"

"They'll feel tight at first," he answered and I could tell he was getting very excited, "but they'll stretch with wear. Try them on."

"You stay there," I ordered and marched into the bedroom on my own. I didn't want him to see me struggling to get them on as I know I'd probably pull lots of weird faces. I had to lie on the bed and breathe in to get the zip done up on the trousers but the jacket fitted me really well. The boots were a bit more of a struggle, but eventually I got them to sit properly on my calves. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I didn't look half bad.

"Holy Shit!" was Edward's response when I sashayed into the living room. "Fuck! You look HOT," he exclaimed and it was obvious I was having an effect on a certain part of his anatomy. I must admit I did feel very sexy in this outfit."

Edward got up and walked over to me and I knew damn well what was on his mind, but I was going to make him work for it. We'd already had sex three times this morning.

"These are _riding leathers,_ so we're going for a ride, _on Sadie, Eddie!"_

Edward pulled a pretend-long face then dashed into the spare bedroom and got changed. In a few minutes he was dressed in his leathers and ready to go so I followed him down the stairs and out to the stable.

I hadn't been on a bike with Edward since the day he rescued me from James in Brighton. Since picking up Cherry, our lovely Cooper S, he had never suggested going out on his bike together as he probably presumed I would associate it with the horrors that happened afterwards. I had a feeling he missed going to the Ace, even though he said he didn't, but we'd been so busy every weekend since I moved into the mews that the subject had hardly come up.

Edward opened the stable door and as the light filtered in, I noticed that Sadie was already without her chains and freshly polished. More importantly, dangling from the handlebars were two matching shiny new black and silver crash helmets, one smaller than the other. I gasped when I saw them as Edward had never worn one before, so I was thrilled he'd seen sense at last, especially after he told me he'd been livid when he saw me riding on Jake's scooter without one which at the time I thought was a bit two-faced as he didn't wear one either.

Edward was giving me a sheepish grin as he walked over to Sadie and picked the smaller helmet up.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked.

"I think so," I replied. "As long as you don't go too fast and frighten the daylights out of me."

Edward laughed and came over and gave me a hug.

"I know this will bring back memories of James and being chased, but to me it will bring back the best memory ever, which was the time we spent in the field, when you made me the happiest man on Earth."

"Are there any fields in Kensington?" I asked innocently.

"Well, there's Hyde Park, but I don't think there's any long grass there and I don't think you're allowed to ride motorbikes across the open spaces. You might frighten the horses."

"Darn it!" I replied and grinned. "Come on then, let's get going before I change my mind."

Edward took a while adjusting the straps on my helmet to make it fit properly. It was heavier than Jake's and felt very strange, but I guessed I would get used to it. I walked out onto the cobbles while Edward wheeled Sadie out of the stable and put the alarms on, then we strolled down to the road where I climbed on the back behind him. He primed the engine then put his full force on the kick-start and Sadie sprang to life. I'd forgotten how noisy she was, even with my ears protected by the helmet, and for a moment I felt as though I was sitting astride a Blue Streak missile.

Edward ambled Sadie towards the main road but before he pulled out into the traffic he turned to me.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yep," I replied, trying to sound convincing. I flung my arms around his chest and squeezed him tightly and I could feel him laughing for some reason as we pulled out from the safety of the side road. As Sadie picked up speed I closed my eyes and silently screamed in terror, but I knew Edward wouldn't take any risks with me on the back so I relaxed and settled behind the man who meant the world to me, knowing that stifling my fears and doing this would bring him so much pleasure.

And now I was even more frightened than I'd ever been on the back of Edward's bike.

* * *

 **Edward**

As Bella buries her face in my chest, terrified about what's going to happen in the next few minutes, I think about the last time I frightened her, which was the first time I took her out on Sadie since Brighton, which was on her birthday six months ago. I tried not to really frighten her then, but it was impossible to keep Sadie's speed down to thirty miles an hour, and I know on some of the fast stretches of road Bella screamed, just a little bit.

When Bella put her arms around me and squeezed my chest, I recalled all the fantasies I'd had of her being on the bike with me. She was there now, in real life, sitting behind me, dressed in skin-tight leather; her legs gripping mine and her body as close as it was physically possible to be with clothes on. I'd dreamed of this moment for so long but tried to put it out of mind as I knew Bella wasn't ready. As each weekend passed I missed being on the bike even more, but even though I knew every detail of what Bella went through with James, I couldn't imagine the mental trauma she was still trying to deal with.

Instead of heading west towards the A40 and the Ace Cafe, which is where I'd take her next time, I turned Sadie towards central London, passing Kensington Palace, Harrods and the Royal Albert Hall. We belted along the road that crosses Hyde Park where vehicles are allowed to drive, emerging at Marble Arch, and then raced along Oxford Street, then Regent's Street to Piccadilly, then along the Haymarket to Trafalgar Square. I did at least three circuits around the magnificent lions that guard Nelson's Column and Bella was squealing with excitement by then. She was absolutely loving the tour of all of London's tourist spots and would shriek every time she saw something she recognised.

After my third circuit, I raced through Admiralty Arch and opened Sadie up down the Mall. I'm sure if the Queen was in residence she would have heard us coming, but her standard wasn't fluttering above the palace today, so she must have been slumming it in Windsor Castle for the weekend. When we reached the Victoria Memorial, we tore around there a few times until I realised I was getting some very filthy looks from some of the Guardsmen on duty, so I raced down Birdcage Walk until we reached Westminster and the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben and the Abbey.

I pulled up on the bridge so we could enjoy the views up and down-river which were stunning. London was shining in the sunlight and at this point in time I couldn't have been happier. I was in the best city in the world, on the best bike that had ever been produced, with the best girl who'd ever walked the face of the earth. I felt like a King.

"Home?" I suggested after we'd taken in the sights in for a while.

"Home," Bella agreed, so I kicked Sadie into life again, drove to the opposite side of the river then along the embankment until we reached the Albert Bridge, where we crossed the river again and was soon back in Kensington.

Bella was a bit wobbly when she climbed off the bike, but she walked with me into the stable and watched as I chained Sadie to the floor again. She took her helmet off and ran her fingers through her hair then crossed over to the door and pulled it shut so we were effectively locked in. Her eyes met mine and I just knew from the look on her face that my ultimate fantasy was going to be achieved.

"Oh Jesus!" I exclaimed as she sashayed towards me and slid her hands up my leather jacket and wrapped them around my neck.

"You're keeping this leather jacket on, do you hear me, Eddie Masen?"

"Fuck, yeah, Bella Swan, but you are too - and those boots."

"You know I'll have to take them off to remove my trousers?"

"And I'll have to take my jacket off to get rid of my t-shirt as well."

"What are you waiting for then? Your Rocker-girl is desperate can't you see? Sitting on a vibrating motorbike does things to a girl's nether regions, so I'm so turned on at this moment I'm going to explode unless you do something about it."

Clothes were peeled off rapidly until Bella was wearing nothing but her boots and jacket. I was just wearing my jacket, but Bella had ruffled my hair and pulled some of it forward which I know made me look like Eddie the Rocker from the Coach and Horses. I helped her up onto Sadie and she looked fucking amazing, however it couldn't have been comfortable for her. But Bella was smiling up at me as I clambered on so I rammed myself into her without hesitation. No foreplay was required; I was more turned-on now than I'd ever been in my whole life and I had to stop myself coming on the spot by concentrating hard. But when Bella wrapped her legs around me and told me she loved me, and she would never leave me as long as we continued to play dress-up every now and again, I couldn't help it and I exploded into her and she climaxed straight after.

As I lay on top of her revelling in the ecstatic moment, I realised that not once since entering the stable with Bella had I thought about Jasper and his smug comment about him doing this before me. My mind had been totally focused on Bella and what was going to happen between us, so I was elated that the experience hadn't been marred by thinking about Jasper and his Harley-girl.

And then I realised that in my desperation to fuck Bella on my motorbike, I'd forgotten to wear any protection.

Double-Fuck!

* * *

 **Bella**

My face is still buried in Edward's chest when I hear a kindly voice speaking to him.

"Would your girlfriend like a glass of champagne? It might help to calm her."

I peek out from under Edward's jacket and stare at the immaculately dressed stewardess who is looking at me with sympathetic eyes. She must think I'm a complete wuss being petrified of flying, but there have been so many air crashes lately, including an awful one in New York not so long ago, the thought of being trapped in an aeroplane as it hurtles towards the ground terrifies me.

I nod my head in affirmation and have to stop myself asking her to just give me the bottle and a straw which would knock me out for the duration, but I don't want to embarrass Edward who must have paid a fortune for these first class tickets.

"This is my wife, actually," Edward responds proudly. "We were married this morning in London. We're honeymooning in New York and California."

"Congratulations, Sir; how wonderful," the stewardess responds. "Two champagne's are on the way, and if you want more, just hold your glass up."

Edward grins at me. "Don't worry, we'll be up in the air soon and we're on one of the safest airlines in the world. BOAC haven't had a crash since 1954."

"That means they're overdue for one," I wail, and then the champagne arrives and it's delicious.

 _"Now_ you know why I didn't tell you where we were going for our honeymoon, Bella. I knew you'd be anxious."

"We could've gone by ship to New York, then by train to California," I moan.

"True, but the sea is very rough this time of year. You would've been sick all the way. You felt queasy on the Serpentine, didn't you?"

I huffed then, but it was true. I wasn't the best sailor to be honest, and I'm sure I'm not going to be a great flyer either, even though the wheels haven't left the ground yet. I admit I'm excited to be going to New York as Edward has arranged for me to meet Helen Gurley Brown, who is the editor of Cosmopolitan. We'll spend five days in the city, then we're flying to Los Angeles to meet up with Alice and Jasper who are flying out there tomorrow. Jasper has arranged to meet up with some guys who make surf boards and other surfing paraphernalia to get some ideas for his businesses in Cornwall, but his meetings will be all done by the time Edward and I get there, and then we're going to have _'Fun Fun Fun'_ , just like the Beach Boys say in their song.

The plane has started to move and I can see the London Airport buildings getting further and further away and then the lights are turned off in the cabin. I knock back the rest of the champagne in one hit and hold my glass up for another, but the stewardess is already strapped into her seat so I'll have to wait until we're airborne for the next hit of alcohol. The plane comes to a halt for a few minutes at the end of the runway and then it starts to move very, very fast and I'm pinned to my seat. Edward flings his arms around me and we cling together as the wheels leave the ground and we soar towards heaven.

I'm screaming internally and my eyes are tightly shut. I know one of the wings is going to drop off and I'm waiting for the bang and then I'm going to be sucked out of the window and end up splatted over West London somewhere. I eventually open my eyes and peek at Edward, and I realise he's just as terrified as I am, which makes me feel awful.

"Hey" I say and run my fingers through his hair. "We're going to be fine," I lie.

"I know," he replies. "I just hate it that you're unhappy."

"Who says I'm unhappy, Edward? I'm frightened, yes, but every day since I've moved in with you I wake up with a smile on my face and every night when I go to sleep the same smile is on my face because I'm lying next to you. That's all I've ever wanted in life. Remember I told you that when we were sitting on the church wall surrounded by tulips?"

"I remember, Bella. The pursuit of happiness."

"Yes, the pursuit of happiness. The founding fathers were correct; it's everybody's right to be happy. Are you happy, Edward?"

"More than you could ever know, Bella."

"Then let's drink to that."

We both hold our glasses in the air and the stewardess spots us, even in the darkened cabin, and shoots down and refills our glasses to the brim.

"Happiness," we both say in unison as we clink our glasses in a toast.

As we drink our champagne together, Edward puts his arm across my shoulders as we stare out the tiny window waiting for the moment when the plane breaks through the thick layer of cloud and rain that's been covering London for most of the day. And when it finally does, the only lights I guess we'll see from then on until we land in the Big Apple will be the moon and the stars.

 ** _The End_**

(apart from the Epilogue)

* * *

 **I'm sure many of you guessed that Bella was on an aeroplane before you read the punchline. Flying was a very scary thing back then, so she had every right to be terrified. I'm sure after a few more champagnes she'll be having the time of her life.**

So now we know what happened to our characters immediately after the James situation was resolved. Three weddings and three jail terms! Before any Londoners reading this say you can't do a road circuit of the Lions in Trafalgar Square, back in 1964 you could. It's only fairly recently that they've pedestrianised the area in front of the National Gallery. I love Trafalgar Square - I used to work in Pall Mall in 1971 and used to walk to the Square every day to eat my lunch. I consider it to be the beating heart of London.

By the way a 'pinny' is a short name for a small pinafore or apron. I've had a few questions about this since uploading this chapter.

Cosmopolitan was taken over and re-vamped by Helen Gurley Brown in 1965 and launched in the September of that year and caused a sensation by publishing articles about women's issues and taboo subjects that had never been discussed in print before. I've been steering Bella towards this type of journalism throughout the story and I know through some of the reviews that you could see where Bella's career was heading.

I could have ended the story here, but I decided to write an Epilogue that's set some way in the future as I thought that readers would be interested to know how Edward and Bella's careers develop. I was right as you do, so I do hope you enjoy it. I was also was putting off saying goodbye to the characters (sniff).

By the way for 'The Who'/Quadraphenia fans who are reading this, have any of you spotted that I've used the band's names throughout the story? Keith (RIP), John (RIP), Roger(s), Pete (and Simon) Townshend, and there'll be another one in the Epilogue, but only aficionados of the current line-up of The Who will spot who it is. (I purposely put 'Moon' in the last sentence - RIP Keith, you legend!)

 **Thanks so much again to everyone who has reviewed - I've loved reading all your comments and guesses and your really kind words about the story.**

 **Joan xx**


	38. Chapter 38

I've jumped forward to the year **1989** so you can read how everybody's careers and relationships worked out, but especially Bella and Edward's. I do hope you enjoy this last chapter when our favourite couple have a good reason to celebrate and also to reminisce with friends about the last twenty five years.

* * *

 **THE EPILOGUE**

 **March 23rd 1989**

 **Bella**

Twenty-five years ago, on this exact date, I was chatting to Sue outside the Express building, making the most of the last few moments of freedom before walking up the steps and into the typing pool for another tedious day at work. I was totally unaware of course that the man who was to be the one and only love of my life was looking down at me from his recently-acquired office window. Now, twenty-five years later, _I'm_ looking down at Edward, this time from _my_ lofty position, which is high up in the Stranger's Gallery in the House of Lords. As I watch him prepare to take his seat on the cross benches for the first time, I couldn't be more proud of the man who has been my lover and my partner ever since the day he rescued me from James and his thugs in Brighton, and with whom I've had the happiest of lives.

Sitting next to me and peering down on her son is the other Lady Cullen, my darling mother-in-law, Esme, who after initially frightening the daylights out of me when we first met, has turned out to be the best MIL in the world, and one of my best friends. She has witnessed this ceremony before of course, when Carlisle became a Lord when he was appointed as Master of the Rolls in 1960, which was two years before his own father died. Now she's witnessing Edward taking his place in the Upper House of the magnificent Palace of Westminster like his father, and his father before him, and all the eldest male Cullen ancestors going back at least three hundred years.

As I wait for the ceremony to begin where Edward is formally introduced to the House, I've often wondered how my life would have turned out if Edward hadn't taken up residence in his office for another couple of months, as I would have been long gone from the Express by then. The chances of our paths crossing would have been miniscule, but actually, when I think about it, we probably would have met eventually but only many years later. I could've been married to Jake by then! But no, even without Edward in the picture, I don't think Jake and I would ever have been compatible; he's too much of a 'bloke' for a girl like me. Anyway, he's been happily married to Julie for nearly eighteen years, and Edward and I still visit him and his family occasionally when we go back to the East End to see mum and dad.

So much has happened in these twenty-five years that it's difficult to remember everything. I was married at nineteen, became an accidental mother aged twenty-three, (the Pill isn't always a hundred percent reliable), and then again aged twenty five (planned), then a mother of twins at thirty-three which was another accident but a wonderful surprise. So now we have three sons and one daughter. Our eldest son is twenty-one today, our daughter is eighteen going on twenty-five, and our identical twin boys have just turned ten. Exhausting! I'll be forty-four in September and Edward is just coming up to his fiftieth birthday in May. Time has certainly flown by.

My career in journalism went supersonic after Edward and I met Helen Gurley Brown on our honeymoon in New York. Helen and I clicked straight away and I started writing freelance for the US magazine _Cosmopolitan_ in September 1965. My 'Message from London' (which morphed into 'Message from _Swinging_ London' a year later), proved an instant hit with American readers, and through that success I began to write about other more serious matters affecting women. I eventually started writing for other magazines and newspapers as well and it was then that I had to admit to Alice she'd been right when she said 'I was destined for greater things', as I could actually see myself becoming quite well known because of my writing.

Cosmopolitan quickly became famous as _the_ magazine for liberated young women and no subject was taboo for its pages. If girls wanted to find out about sex or any other issues relating to women, they need look no further than a copy of Cosmo, and I was soon heralded as one of their top writers. I just wished Cosmo had been around when I was in my teens; then I wouldn't have had to learn about sex and orgasms in Alice's bedroom, courtesy of her having a liberated mother.

In late 1970, I finally broke my last connection with the Advertiser where I'd only been working as a freelancer since being taken on by Cosmo, and for even less time when our daughter was on the way. From my London home I coordinated the launch of Cosmopolitan in the UK in 1971, following which Helen offered me the Chief Editor's role, but because I had two small children by then and a husband who kept flying off around the world doing good deeds, it would have been too much to take on board and do successfully. I continued to write columns though for both the UK and American editions, mainly on women's issues like equality at work, birth control, access to health care, et cetera, and through this I became well known in the media as a champion for women's causes. It also helped that Mike was working for the BBC by then, so my face became well-known on British television and raised my profile substantially.

From there I was asked to join various government committees that looked into women's issues. It was on these committees that I crossed paths with Edward, who by then had become very well known as an advocate for Civil Rights and Equal Opportunities, but not just for women. Luckily we were always on the same side.

In 1977 I was awarded the MBE and then in 1984 the OBE, which was the same year Edward was made a Knight, so I became the second Lady Cullen five years ago, as wife to 'Sir' Edward Cullen.

But today Edward becomes a Lord, and it's an extra-special day for another reason because…..well, I'll let Edward explain.

* * *

 **Edward**

I must admit I feel like a 'May Day Horse', which was one of my grandpa's expressions when he saw someone who was overdressed, or dressed inappropriately for his or her age.

For my ceremony of 'Introduction and Prorogation' to the Upper House of Parliament, where I'm obliged to swear an Oath of Allegiance to the Queen, I'm wearing the Parliamentary Robes of a Baron, which means I'm covered from shoulders to ankles in scarlet wool and white ermine and I'm carrying a black cocked hat, which apparently I don't have to wear. I would have preferred to just walk in and take my seat without any fanfare, but this is tradition, and who am I to argue against hundreds of years of history.

I'm led from the Robing Room into the glittering chamber by my two sponsors who are also in their ceremonial robes and who have to have the same rank as me – which is a 'two-bar' Peer. I've been informed by my 'dressers' that Dukes have four bars on their robes, Earls have three and Viscounts (like my father) have two and a half and so on. I have so much to learn. None of the other members present are wearing their ceremonial robes as the ceremony is just for me, so I feel a bit outlandish in this get-up when I look at all the other Lords and Baronesses dressed in either lounge suits or twin-sets and pearls.

When I'm right inside the Chamber, I glance up at the Stranger's Gallery and easily spot my mother and Bella in the small group of onlookers. Both of them are smiling at me and I actually spot that mum is grasping Bella's hand, which is quite touching. I'm delighted they've always got on so well, even though they are both very strong characters. Bella was terrified of her at first, but when mum realised our love for each other was genuine, she welcomed Bella into our family with open arms.

I'm so proud of Bella's achievements and I'm the first to accept without question, that if Bella had been a man, she would have been made a Peer by now and would have been granted a seat in the Lords long before me. This country has made great strides in recognising women's achievements, but women still have to work twice as hard to get the recognition that is handed to their male counterparts with depressing ease. Like her father she isn't bitter about her situation; instead she continues to strive to improve life for disadvantaged _and_ advantaged women so that one day, hopefully in our lifetime, women will be considered to be truly equal to men.

I won't be making my maiden speech today; I'll leave that for a few weeks' time. Today I'm just savouring the moment when my name is recorded in history, especially as there's one person here today who I didn't expect to be present when I took the solemn Oath.

I look across the Chamber to the cross-benches where my father is sitting and I can tell he's bursting with pride. I'm so grateful at this moment to the doctors and nurses in our National Health Service, who have kept my dad alive and in good shape so he can witness me becoming a Peer in my own right and not after I've inherited his title following his death. My title isn't hereditary like his, so one day, (but hopefully not for a while), I'll become Viscount Moray and will receive my extra half-bar. When I'm gone, my eldest son, Richard, will inherit the title. Until then, I'll use this privilege to continue to promote the Civil Liberties of every member of our society, regardless of gender, social status or ethnicity.

The Lords and Baronesses in the Chamber hush as the Garter Kings of Arms and the Gentleman Usher of the Black Rod join us and then the Clerk reads the Letters Patent, where I'm introduced to the House as 'Lord Cullen of Clayton' and invited to take the Oath.

" _I, Edward Anthony Cullen, do swear that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, her heirs and successors, according to law. So help me God."_

I take my seat among the Peers and smile up at Bella who by the looks of it is actually crying. Only she and I know the reason why I chose the name 'Clayton' and it will remain a mystery to our family until both of us have shuffled off this mortal coil. We've been back there of course, but only to look and remember. Neither of us were tempted to try to recreate the moment; it was already perfect in our memories. There was also no need to rekindle what we were feeling for each other in the field that day, because there was no doubt we still loved each other just as much as we did on the initially terrifying but in the end truly memorable day back in May 1964.

The Chamber immediately rises and my sponsors and I return to the Robing Room where I divest myself of the heavy garments. I shake hands with my Peers and make my way to the lofty octagon shaped Central Lobby, which is the crossroads in the Palace where the Lords, the Commons and the almost thousand-year-old Westminster Hall meet, and is where my family will be waiting for me.

As I walk through the arch, Bella is there to greet me first and her eyes are shining with pride. After I've kissed and hugged my wife, parents and children, we make our way through the spectacular building and out into Parliament Square, where cars are waiting to whisk us to The Savoy for a reception. As well as being the anniversary of our meeting, it's also Richard's twenty-first birthday today, so we'll be celebrating in a private room overlooking the river.

Richard is down from Edinburgh University for the Easter break. He's studying medicine and is hoping to become a Cardiologist in the future as he's always been fascinated by his Grandpa's dodgy ticker. Our daughter, Sophia, will be following in my footsteps, as she's already stated her intention to study law at Oxford, much to her grandpa's delight as he still maintains Cambridge is riddled with Communists. Our two ten year olds haven't yet shown any interest in studying for anything at all as they both want to be professional footballers and play for West Ham, like their cousin Matthew, Mike's son. If they do, I'm sure they'll probably end up making more money than Richard and Sophia put together.

Fifteen years ago, after four years of study, Bella obtained her Open University degree in English Literature, and I'll never forget how proud Charlie and Renee were at her Graduation, even more so than when she presented them with their first grandchild, or when she had her first of three books about London published. Even though Bella was already well known as a successful journalist, being able to put 'BA' after her name did more to raise her self-esteem than any of the awards she received for her writing. Now, in 1980's England, the comprehensive system of education has taken over from the old two-tier system, so children will never be doomed to being a 'failure for life' for not passing an exam at age eleven.

Our reception room is already full of guests when we walk in to loud cheers and congratulations. I quickly scan who's here and my eyes immediately rest on one old lady who is sitting by the window with Jane and Sue and their husbands. I smile broadly at her as I wander over and kiss her lightly on the cheek.

"It's wonderful to see you, Margaret. You're looking very well."

"Not bad for eighty-one," she replies and takes my hands in both of hers and gives them a squeeze. "Congratulations, Edward. You deserve everything that's come your way, and thank you for everything you've done for me. You've been like a son to me, and these two girls have been like daughters. For an old spinster I've been very lucky."

"Well, I've always thought of you as my second mum, Margaret. I hope you enjoy yourselves today."

I walk over to where Bella is talking to Jake and his family and shake his hand and give his wife, Julie, a kiss.

"Great to see you, Jake."

"You too," he replies. "Bella just told me its twenty five years to the day since you first clapped eyes on her."

"That's right," I reply, "and Richard turned up exactly four years later which was a coincidence. That's why I picked today for my ceremony at the Lords; thought I'd get all the celebrations over and done with in one day."

Jake chuckles and play punches me in the arm.

"I could accuse you of being tight with money, but I know that's not the case. There're a lot of old people here, and I'm not talking about you and me. Getting them all together on one day is quite a challenge."

I nod in agreement and look at the crowd. My dad is eighty-two now and is still the Master of the Rolls. He says he'll give it two more years and that will be it. I'll believe that when it happens as he's threatened retiring before. Mum has just turned seventy-six but doesn't look a day over sixty-five and her tongue is still as sharp as ever.

Charlie and Renee are in their late seventies and both have arthritis, but despite that they are really happy and cheerful and are still living in their old house, even though both of them have difficulty getting up the stairs. Bella and I offered to buy them a bungalow in the country but they refused to move from the East End which is where all their friends are. We bought them a little ground floor apartment in Eastbourne though, and they go there for some sea air quite often which does them good.

Mike is here with his wife who is a BBC producer, plus their nineteen-year old footballing son and two school-aged daughters. Mike is now the Head of Current Affairs at the BBC after walking away from a stellar career at the Mirror Group to concentrate on television. About ten years ago he predicted that the future of journalism was in TV as newspaper sales were steadily declining, so he made a name for himself on various news channels before being offered the top job at the BBC. He has proved to be a great brother-in-law, and I know how lucky I am to have married into such a solid, happy family.

Alice's parents are deep in conversation with Bella's parents, obviously talking about old times as they don't see each other very often. They are roughly the same age as Charlie and Renee but are still in very good shape. After Alice and Jasper were married, they chucked in their well paid jobs in London, sold their house and moved to North Cornwall to help Jasper set up his business, and later on to help Alice with the children so she could carry on working in the fashion world. The sea air has definitely kept them young and I know that Jasper has appreciated having them around. Aunt Charlotte and Alistair are here too and are still happily married after twenty-three years. They live mainly in the South of France now and spend most of their days soaking up the sun on the Cote d'Azure.

So, as an extended family, we are all very lucky to still have our loved ones with us, twenty-five years after me, Rosie and Jasper found our respective partners, and between the three of us we have produced twelve children.

I wander over to where Emmett and Rosie are sitting, picking up a glass of champagne on the way. Their five children are also here and they range in ages from nine to twenty-three; the last one arriving eight years behind the rest. His appearance is more than likely due to Rosie getting broody after our twins arrived as she couldn't keep away from Bella when she brought the babies home. Emmett didn't seem to mind having another mouth to feed. He is still the happiest and most content man I've ever met as he has everything he ever wanted in life, plus the faith that life would continue for eternity. I envied him this.

"Lord Cullen of Clayton!" he declares when I give him a manly hug. "Why Clayton?" Emmett asks with one eyebrow raised. "You kept that quiet for a while. Why not Lord Cullen of Hanger Lane or the North Circular Road?"

"It's private," I reply with a grin. "You'll find out why in either mine or Bella's Wills if we die before you. Until then it's a secret. Anyway, I already have one member of my family that reminds me of my days as a Rocker. That's enough."

Emmett and Rosie look at me strangely for a second and then both smile when they know who I'm referring to.

"Did you hear the news about James," Emmett said. "That's one soul I didn't pray for."

"Yes I heard," I replied. "Bella's always worried he'd be released and would come after us again, but that's not going to happen now. Cancer I hear."

"Yes, a painful end, and one I wouldn't wish on anyone; even James. It's a relief to know he won't be back on the streets any time soon."

I nod in agreement as I recall opening the letter about a month ago from the Home Office, informing us that James had died in Broadmoor. Even though we'd been assured he was too dangerous to ever be considered for parole, it was always in the back of our minds that one day he would be released by a well-meaning Home Secretary, or he would escape. We now had closure on the short but terrifying period, even though escaping from James and being in fear for our lives had made us appreciate every second of our time together as we'd come so close to being parted forever.

"So when are you going to become Bishop McCarty and join me in the House?"

"Never!" Emmett exclaimed and roared with laughter. "A vicar I am and a vicar I'll stay. Wild horses couldn't drag me away from my parish. Bonnie is getting old now anyway and I couldn't ask her to cover a whole Diocese. My village is quite enough for her."

"So Bonnie is preventing you from spreading the word?"

"Jesus didn't have a motorbike, and he spread his word across the globe, Edward?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I replied, sounding like the now departed John Lennon again.

Rosie's eyebrows went skywards so I leant over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"How do you put up with him?" I whisper in her ear, knowing full well Emmett can hear me.

"I don't know," she replies furtively. "I'll give it another twenty-five years before I make up my mind whether to keep him or not."

"Good plan," I say then leave them to talk to some more of my guests.

Richard and his girlfriend are by the window looking across the river at the south bank. He's going out with friends this evening to celebrate his birthday in a more age-appropriate way, and will probably roll home at three in the morning three sheets to the wind. I'm not going to complain as you're only young once, and he needs to have fun as well as study hard which I know he does. Sophia has just starting dating a chap from school who is also heading to Oxford in September. Bella had to give me a severe talking-to after she brought him home for the first time, accusing me of behaving like a Neanderthal, and worse than Charlie when he first saw me after I brought her home from Brighton. I apologised to both of them later and admitted to them I was just being an over-protective dad.

I raise my glass to Richard then wander over to where Bella is now talking to Alice and Jasper and their three teenage children. The boys, Zak and Zade, who are only eleven months in age apart, are the image of Jasper (and Alistair), and are blonde, sun-kissed, straggly-haired surfers. Their daughter is a mini-version of Alice, with bright, sparkling eyes and a mouth set in a permanent smile. Everything about Zoe Whitlock is immaculate, down to her perfectly bobbed dark brown hair, her polished nails and her fashionable clothing, and she's only fifteen. Alice had recently taken her to meet Anna Wintour, who had just become the Editor of Vogue in New York and was in town visiting the Vogue offices in London where Alice works as a freelance fashion consultant. Now Zoe has pictures of Ms Wintour all over her bedroom walls, instead of Michael Jackson or Jason Donovan like normal teenage girls do. She wants to be a model, but unlike her brothers who are both over six feet tall, she'll be lucky to make it to five feet four inches, like her mother. She's determined though, and I have no doubt she'll succeed in whatever she chooses to do, also like her mother.

Jasper is still the same laid back bohemian character he was twenty-five years ago and he'll never change. Despite giving the impression that he floats through life without a care in the world, he has managed to build several successful surfing-related businesses and now owns practically half of the coast of North Cornwall, where he has ensured development on his land has been kept to an absolute minimum with no high-rise hotels or tacky amusement arcades like there are in Newquay now. He was right; surfing had become hugely popular, but he's made more money out of his and Alice's clothing range than anything else, where their 'Jaz' label is now one of the most sought after and cool products to wear, and not just with surfers.

"Hey!" he says and high-fives me rather than shaking hands. "Good turn-out but I'm trying to work out who's not here?"

"Sam and Tanya couldn't come; they're just about to become grandparents for the first time which is as scary as hell as I still think of them in their twenties. Tanya didn't want to be away from their daughter which is understandable. Apart from them, everyone who's important is here."

"So you didn't invite Victoria then?"

"Ha, bloody, ha! I wouldn't know how to contact her if I'd wanted to. Last time I heard of her she was living on a Kibbutz in Israel. She'd tried to go back to America when she was released but they wouldn't let her in again because of her criminal record."

"Sensible people," Jasper chuckled.

I laughed as well but Victoria had dragged her family's name into the mud because of her antics and it was only a couple of years later I'd found out the true extent of the problems she had caused. She had bankrupted her father, the Earl, as he'd spent all the family's wealth on legal costs on both sides of the Atlantic bailing her out of trouble. When the Earl died of a heart attack not long after Victoria was released from prison, her brother inherited the title and then quickly disowned her when he found out all the family money had gone. Her name was never mentioned in 'polite society' again.

"She certainly was a problem, Jasper."

"She was. A definite nutcase; a beautiful one, but still a nutcase," Jasper responded.

"Agreed. Anyway, when are you heading back to Cornwall for the summer?"

"Straight after Easter, Ed. The boys aren't bothering with college or university; they just want to work for me and I'm cool with that. They'll learn more from the people I employ than they ever could sat on their arses in a lecture hall. Zoe will chuck in school as well as she'll be sixteen soon and will have taken her exams in June, then she's off to Paris to work as a runner in one of the fashion houses. I can't believe she'll be off our hands in a couple of months. It doesn't seem like five minutes since she was born."

"I know," I replied. "Time has flown by. Next week it'll be twenty-five years since I saw you bombing along the road with Alice tucked in behind you when I was having a go at Jake. I still can't believe I didn't recognise you from behind. I suppose you were the last person I expected to see riding a bloody scooter!"

"Likewise with you on a motorbike; trying to look like James Dean and being super-cool."

"Yeah well, we were all a bit daft then."

"No, we weren't, Edward. We were amazingly lucky to be around in the 1960's so we had the choice of being either a Mod or a Rocker and be part of that extraordinary way of life. It was a great time, and one I'm grateful I lived through. Kids nowadays have no idea what it was like to be part of something like that. We both belonged to cultures that spread right across this country _and_ into other countries. We were at the beginning of the revolution for young people. We listened to music that made you want to dance, shout and scream. We made friendships which have lasted a lifetime through having a common need to be part of something bigger than the individual. We had the freedom to be young and have fun, and rebel against how we were expected to behave. It was an amazing time. Life is too serious now and the pressure on kids to succeed is crazy, which is why I want my kids to do exactly what they want and not conform to what is expected of them, or to grow up too fast."

"You're right, Jasper. It's ridiculous now to remember I was a fully-qualified lawyer in 1964, but I was still behaving like a kid at age twenty-four; hating on Mods just because of the way they dressed and their superior attitude. It was crazy when I think about it now, but that's the way it was. It was a great time and I don't think we'll ever see anything like it again, which is sad."

"We've got our memories though, and we can talk about them to our kids so it stays alive in our minds. My three constantly listen to the music from the 1960's and love hearing all the stories about the East End, and Clacton and The Roxy, and tearing around London on our scooters in packs; frightening all the pedestrians because of the noise and the sheer numbers of us, shouting and hollering at the tops of our voices and just having fun. Even the fights on the beaches were crazy to a point. There's nothing like it now and I feel sorry for the teenagers who haven't got anything like it to compare it to."

"I do too," I agreed, "even though I'd probably be awake all night waiting for my older two to come home if they got up to the sort of things we got up to. I'm glad that neither of them are interested in riding Tara or Sadie either as I'd be worried sick. Now I know how my parents felt about me and my bikes."

"Do you still ride them?"

"Only occasionally. I know I'll never sell them; they're part of my history I suppose. Anyway, The Who are touring again next year; are you up for going?"

"Absolutely. Wouldn't miss it for the world. I'll make sure I have my parka at the ready!"

I wander around the room and speak to all the guests and thank them for coming. I make a speech about Richard's coming of age, saying how proud we were as a family that he'd decided to study medicine, but Bella and I wanted him to make sure that having a happy life should always be his ultimate goal. He responded with a speech saying that he'd had the happiest of childhoods and he considered himself to be extremely fortunate to have such amazing parents and an awesome extended family. It was extremely difficult to hold it together after that.

Bella had been standing next to me during the speeches and she smiled up at me with shining eyes when the guests were applauding.

"We haven't done too bad with our kids, have we?" she whispered; her voice wavering slightly.

"No, but we're only half way there remember. We still have the twins to get through puberty, which is probably going to be a nightmare if you think about how they're behaving now."

"They'll be fine," she replies with a wicked grin. "We'll just threaten to send them to Eton if they misbehave, like we did with Richard."

I chuckle at that comment, remembering the look of horror on Richard's face when I said it to him one day when he was about eleven and thought he knew it all. It did the trick though, and we didn't have any more trouble from him from then on. Little did he know that there was no way I would send any of my children to a boarding school, especially to one that indoctrinated their pupils to think they were somehow superior to the rest of the population; well they did when I was there. Hopefully the school's ethos has changed by now but somehow I doubt it. Admittedly Richard did go to a private school rather than a state school, but he came home every night to be with his family and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

The party starts to wind down at about four o'clock and after we've said goodbye to all our guests, Bella and I make our way home to our house in north London on our own. The twins are going to Haslemere to spend a few days with their grandparents and Richard and Sophia are hitting the West End to celebrate with their respective partners and other friends. It's still reasonably light, so I suggest taking the dog for a walk before it gets too dark and cold. We get changed into our jeans and warm sweaters and head out for our favourite walk, which is around the perimeter of London Zoo then up to the top of Primrose Hill, which is where I put a ring on Bella's finger almost twenty-five years ago.

It's a cool evening so Bella huddles up close to me when we reach the grassy summit, where we stop and turn around so we can admire the cityscape from one of the highest and best vantage points in London. The sun has already disappeared below the horizon, but even though the sky hasn't been blessed by a glorious sunset this evening, the view over London from this high up is still spectacular. Lights have just started to come on in all the tall office buildings dotted across the city, including the iconic Post Officer Tower in the foreground which dominates the skyline, dwarfing everything around it. As the lights in the buildings are turned on one by one, it looks as though the grey skies over London are showering the city with fairy dust.

"London is beautiful from up here, isn't it?" Bella sighs.

"Yes, it is," I agree. "There's the whole city laid out in front of us and it's incredible to know there are millions of people down there, just living their lives, going about their business like we do every day. Do you reckon there are any other couples out there that are as happy as we are though?"

"Of course there are," Bella giggles. "There's Jasper and Alice for one, and Emmett and Rosie if they're still in town, and my mum and dad who've been married for forty-six years now."

"You're right as usual," I sigh. "I just can't imagine anyone being as happy as we are. We've had a good life so far, even though we shouldn't have actually got together in the first place according to you. Can you remember that you didn't think you were good enough for me?"

"I still think that sometimes, Edward. I honestly don't know what I did in my previous lives to deserve having you in this one. I was just a poor East End girl when you first saw me."

"And I was a sort-of rich, but definitely a privileged aristocrat."

"And I used to call you my Monday Man."

"And I used to call you my brown-haired, brown-eyed girl."

"And I was 'uneducated' allegedly."

"And I'd got a first at Cambridge."

"And I was a lowly typist."

"And I was a lofty lawyer."

"And I was a Mod."

"And I was a Rocker."

We both laughed then, as we would repeat this to one another quite often when we were reminiscing about how we got together; sometimes even in front of the children. It never got old.

"What an amazing time we had," I mused as I pulled Bella into my arms again. "I was saying to Jasper earlier, our kids don't know what they're missing. We were really lucky to be at the start of everything, weren't we?"

I can feel Bella nodding her head in agreement but we both remain silent as we recall 1964 and remember the good times we had, and also the scary times which had brought us closer together.

I turn Bella's smiling face up to mine and stare into her Columbian coffee eyes that are still as beautiful as the first day I saw them clearly, even though they're now surrounded by fine lines that betray the fact that she isn't eighteen any more. But her love for me is still there as clear as it has ever been, and I kiss her tenderly on the lips as I bury my fingers in her hair, which is as long and lush as it was on that memorable day twenty-five years ago.

"I love you Bella Swan, more than you'll ever know."

"And I love you, Edward Cullen, until my last breath…..which won't be far away if I don't get home soon. I'm freezing.

I chuckle as I wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tightly to warm her up then start looking around for our elderly, overweight Labrador who has disappeared somewhere. I know he won't be far away so I put my fingers to my mouth and let out a loud whistle knowing he'll eventually appear and reluctantly follow us down the winding path to the road at the foot of the hill where he'll allow me to put his lead back on.

As we wander down the grassy slope in the darkening twilight, the London cityscape slowly disappears behind the bank of tall trees that screen the perimeter of the Zoo and the magical fairyland that is London is finally hidden from view. Bella puts her arm around my waist and I sling my arm lazily across her shoulders as she snuggles up close to me, as though we're just a couple of love-sick teenagers out on date.

When we reach the bottom of the hill, our stupid dog still hasn't appeared so we stop walking and turn around to look for him but this time I don't whistle, but shout his name loudly up the hill.

 **ACE ...**

 **ACE ...**

 **Where the hell are you...ACE!**

* * *

The End

* * *

 **I do hope you enjoyed hearing how Edward and Bella's lives turned out, as well as their family and friends as well. I've really enjoyed getting to know these characters too, and it's always sad for me when I have to say goodbye.**

As I said in my introduction to the story, the 1960's were an amazing time to grow up in. It was tough in many respects as we didn't have all the modern conveniences we have now, but it was really exciting. So much change was happening at once, and life was definitely improving for ordinary working people in Britain, especially young people who were looking forward with a certain amount of confidence to growing up without the threat of war hanging over them for the first time in a few generations.

A number of historians have suggested that it was a 'tribal instinct' manifesting itself because of the lack of having a named 'enemy' to focus on, which was partially the reason why young people formed themselves into gangs, and why the opposing cultures of Mods and Rockers started up almost immediately after National Service ended. I don't know if this is true, but it's an interesting concept.

Thank you so much to everyone who has followed this story. If you've reviewed and given me feedback, I've really enjoyed reading your own or your parents' memories, your comments, thoughts and guesses. It really is the best thing about Fanfiction. We're all amateurs, so hearing what you guys think makes us better writers, so thank you again if you took the time to review. At lot of you have written to say you enjoyed the FYI's as well. I had great fun researching this story, so I wanted to share with you what I'd learned too.

 **So, to end...**

FYI

Edward has been made a **Life Peer** , which means that his title, which he can choose himself but must be a village, town or city in the UK, (in this case Clayton), will die with him and will not be passed on to his son. When Carlisle dies, Edward will become a Viscount as well, which means his robes will have two-and-a-half bars on the front, and then he will also be known as Viscount (Lord) Moray. If Bella does become a Baroness in the future and have her own seat in the Lords, she would be known as Baroness Cullen of ... (somewhere close to her heart). I would guess it would be Poplar.

Also, the wife of a Sir or a Lord can take the title of 'Lady'. However even in these days of equality for all, the husband of a Dame or a Baroness (the female equivalent of Sir or a Lord), cannot call himself Sir or a Lord. He would carry on being 'Mr'. (Are you following me here?). This seems a little unfair don't you think?

The **MBE** (Member of the most excellent Order of the British Empire) is a gallantry award given to people from the British 'Empire' or 'Commonwealth' for excellence in their chosen field (military or civilian) or for charity work. After that is the **OBE** (Officer of the most excellent Order of the British Empire), which is the next step up. Then there's the CBE (Commander of the most excellent Order of the British Empire) which means you're on the way to being made a Sir or a Dame. You can jump from zero to Sir/Dame without going through all the other medals though.

If you ever visit London, do take a trip to Camden and **Primrose Hill**. It is one of my favourite parts of the city and well worth a visit. There are pictures of the view from the top of the hill on the internet. Another good view is from the Greenwich Observatory, which I think is slightly higher.

London is **awesome!**

 **Thank you again for reading this far, and for following my story about two young Londoners. I really hope you enjoyed it.** **Until the next time, happy Fanfiction reading.**

Joan xx (aka Michaelmas54)

I meant to say, 'Zak' Starkey (Ringo Starr's son), is The Who's current drummer and probably one of the best drummers I've ever seen. Well done if you spotted him.


End file.
